


Family Way

by nochick_fics



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: Uryuu begins to develop feelings for the new kid at school.  Now if only he could figure out what to do about the "situation" between him and his father.





	1. Home Economics

**Author's Note:**

> For Baroqueangel.

“By all means, keep talking,” Ms. Taylor said to the classroom.  “I’ll be more than happy to keep you after the period is over.”

Uryuu Ishida sighed heavily and waited along with the teacher for his classmates to get a hint.  Not that he particularly minded the idea of staying late in Home Ec.  But it did get tiresome having to go through the same song and dance every single day of the school week. 

Eventually, the initial roar of chatter and horseplay diminished.  It was about damn time.

“Thank you.”  Ms. Taylor rounded her desk and regarded the students.  “Now, before we begin our new project, I just wanted to take a moment to applaud all of you on your stuffed animals.  While some of you still have a ways to go in the sewing department…”

A low round of chuckling filled the room as she smiled pointedly at Keigo Asano, the class--make that _school_ clown.

“… most of you did a wonderful job with your creations.” 

She grabbed a stuffed lion from her desk and held it high for everyone to see. 

“Excellent work as always, Uryuu,” she said, handing it to him.

The young man offered her a small nod of acknowledgement before lowering his gaze to his desk.  Praise of any kind tended to make him feel awkward, especially praise on a public scale.  And it most certainly did not serve to endear him to his peers.  If anything, it only deepened the void between him and them, a void that was already considerable enough on its own.  It was a shame that grown-ups did not understand that. 

“Now then.”  The woman folded her arms.  “For our next endeavor, we will be cooking.”

The room erupted into a chorus of yays and boos.  While most of the students had no qualms at all about eating, it did not appear as if they cared to exert the energy required to make a meal.  Uryuu, for one, did not mind.  He cooked all the time at home, so this was just another easy A as far as he was concerned.

Ms. Taylor walked over to the cooking area, where rows of stoves awaited.  “When I call your name, please stand at the station I assign you,” she instructed. 

Uryuu pushed up his glasses and waited to hear his name.  When he realized that she would be pairing them up--understandable as there were not enough stoves to work individually--he felt a pang of uneasiness in his gut.  He did not usually work well with others; not for lack of trying, but because most people, quite simply, hated him. 

Well, the _guys_ did, at any rate.  Oh, he got along with the girls just fine, though their oohing and ahhing was more than a little off-putting at times.  But more often than not, the boys in school did their best to make his life miserable.  Whether it was because he usually kept to himself or did not excel at sports or preferred sewing and archery to talking about tits and asses, Uryuu did not know.  But it was what it was, and had been that way as long as he could recall.  He was more than used to it by now, and had done a fairly successful job of pretending that he didn’t give a damn about it. 

So as long as Ms. Taylor did not pair him with a guy, he would be alright.

“And Uryuu, you will be working with Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Apparently, she did not get the memo.

_Shit._

Uryuu clenched his teeth.  While he had barely exchanged glances, let alone words, with the new student, the teen could not help but assume the worst. 

He shoved the stuffed lion--which he decided on the spot to name Kon--into his bag and slowly made his way to the stove in the far corner of the room.

Barely a month had passed since Ichigo first arrived on the scene, but with his stunningly tall body and shockingly orange hair and annoyingly magnetic personality, it wasn’t long after that he had become one of the most popular people in school.  The guys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be _with_ him.  Even Orihime, Uryuu’s only real and true friend, was not immune to his charms; it had gotten so bad for a while with her incessant Ichigo-this and Ichigo-that that Uryuu thought he would go right out of his mind if she said his name one more time. 

They only shared two classes--this one and Physical Education.  Part of Ichigo’s popularity, at least among the fellows, was a direct result of his interactions with the Phys. Ed. teacher, Mr. Zaraki.  No one stood up to that beast of a man the way that Ichigo did--Uryuu strongly suspected they would one day come to blows--and as such, the legend was born.   

As for himself, Uryuu had only spoken to Ichigo once, just last week, when the teen accidentally beaned him in the arm with a basketball.  But instead of mocking him for his poor sports play as the others might have (and _had_ frequently in the past), Ichigo had placed a warm hand on his shoulder, looked down at him with genuine worry, and asked him if he was okay.  Uryuu had mumbled yes, and Ichigo smiled and trotted away, skillfully dribbling the ball and making a most impressive lay-up that even Mr. Zaraki had commended. 

Uryuu placed his bag on the floor and stood as far away from Ichigo as possible without being obviously rude about it.  He looked everywhere except directly at the teen as eye contact wasn’t really his thing. 

“Hey partner,” Ichigo said.  If he was aware of Uryuu’s standoffishness, he did not mention it.

“… Hello.”

“Look, I gotta warn you.  I can’t cook for shit.”

Uryuu wasn’t surprised.  And it wouldn’t have been the first time that he had carried someone else to a passing grade. 

In lieu of responding--what the hell was he supposed to say to that anyway?--Uryuu turned away from him and stared at the other pairings.  The quiet mammoth Chad was partnered with Keigo on the other side of the classroom.  Uryuu wondered how long it would take for the latter to set himself on fire.  Orihime’s friend Tatsuki was flashing a knife in Chizuru Honsho’s face, more than likely warning her to keep her hands off Orihime, a heretofore impossible task for the grabby girl. 

When Ms. Taylor was done dividing the students and left them to create their culinary masterpieces, or disasters in the case of a few, Uryuu, still intent on keeping his interaction with Ichigo to a minimum, turned back towards the stove.  Atop it was a piece of paper on which a number of recipes were typed.  He reached for it, unaware that Ichigo was doing the same until their fingers brushed together, and he pulled his hand back as if scalded. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

And then he waited.  Waited for the name-calling and accusations to begin.  Uryuu had lost count of the number of times that he had been called a fag, or some scathing variation thereof.  Predilection notwithstanding, it was one of their favorite taunts for him, even when he did nothing at all to indicate his true nature. 

“It’s okay.” Ichigo paused.  “You… you don’t talk much, do you?”

Uryuu stared at Ichigo’s sneakers--white ones, very nice--and shook his head.  “I guess I don’t.”

“Hm.  That’s too bad.”

Only then did Uryuu finally lift his head, frowning as he usually did where his peers were concerned.  Ichigo was staring at him with an expression that seemed to range from curious to amused.  But nowhere in that admittedly gorgeous face did he detect an ounce of maliciousness.  For some reason, it was unsettling to no end. 

It was also… kind of nice.

“Alright, let’s see the damage.”  Ichigo snatched the paper from the stove and read over it, his face scrunching into a scowl. “The fuck does ‘blanch’ mean?”

*****

Uryuu glanced at the clock.  It was a quarter to eight.

He contemplated eating dinner without him, but in the end decided against it, much to the anguish of his growling stomach.  To break routine in the Ishida house, while not expressly forbidden, was strongly discouraged.  And so they would eat together as they always did, and all would be right with the world. 

Leaning back in the chair, Uryuu thought back to his school day, namely the fiasco that had taken place in Home Ec.  Ichigo had not exaggerated the rather crude assessment of his cooking abilities and Uryuu had ultimately restricted him from doing anything more complicated than chopping up vegetables for stew, something he still managed to do poorly.  (“What? I like it chunky!” he had insisted.)  Gradually, Uryuu’s initial reluctance faded away into pure agitation over Ichigo’s utter lack of skill, and they ended up bickering over everything from the way the teen held a knife--it was a miracle that he hadn’t cut off his damn fingers--to his insistence on salting the bejesus out of everything.

But at least he learned what blanching was.

Uryuu frowned when he realized that he had been smiling over the memory.

Uryuu Ishida _did not smile._

He righted his glasses and crossed his legs and pushed away all thoughts of Ichigo Kurosaki.  His stomach growled again.  Ugh, this was killing him!  He supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to sneak a bite or two until--

Uryuu froze, in body and mind, as his ears picked up the sound of a car door closing.  And as was the case every single day of his life, he was revolted by his own sick anticipation.

Ryuuken Ishida, his father, his _lover_ , was finally home.


	2. Tense Relations

Dinner was uneventful.  So far.

Uryuu took a bite of chicken breast and set down his knife and fork while he chewed.  Although he was ravenous due to waiting and could have easily devoured the whole thing in a few bites by that point, he was not about to give the man sitting across from him any reason whatsoever to offer up negative commentary.  Of course he would find a reason to do so anyway, as he always did.  But Uryuu did not care to assist him if he could help it.

Ryuuken Ishida was a despicable bastard of a man, admired and feared, wanted and despised, loved and hated.   Although they shared a few physical features, such as their blue eyes, Ryuuken was far less slight of build and his hair was a blend of silver and white, which was entirely too fitting given his icy demeanor.  Uryuu prayed that his own dark locks would never suffer a similar fate, though if they did, luckily there were options. 

As the director of the local hospital, Ryuuken was something of an important figure around town--not that his clout was of any benefit at all to Uryuu.  All the money and influence in the world meant nothing in high school social circles and outsiders like Uryuu would always be scorned and ridiculed, regardless of parentage.  So at the end of the day, and as far as the teen was concerned, Ryuuken was simply… Ryuuken.  Not Dad or Father or any other type of paternal endearment.  Uryuu would have sooner died than refer to him as any of those.

As he took another bite of chicken--which fortunately had not dried out as he had feared having left it to warm in the oven--Uryuu felt the chilling stare of his father fall upon him, inspecting him as he always did.  It took considerable effort for him not to tense under the scrutiny, although that just seemed to be his natural reaction where the older man was concerned.  At least when the lights were on.

“How is your archery training going?” Ryuuken asked. 

Ah, there it was.  As Uryuu hardly ever gave him anything else to berate, what with his flawless academic performance in school , archery was once again the culprit for his apparent failure as a son.  Ryuuken did not give a damn about Uryuu’s training and they both knew it, which was a bit of a shame as the teen knew full well that Ryuuken had been an extraordinary archer back in his day, before he gave it up to become a doctor. 

“It’s going well,” Uryuu replied carefully through a mouthful of rice.  There was no need to elaborate, no desire to give him any opening to attack.

“Hm.”  Ryuuken took a sip of water.  “Seeing as how it is _my_ money that is being spent to support your little hobby, I would hope that you are doing far better than ‘well.’”

Uryuu met his father’s stern gaze, and he cringed inwardly as he was about to do the one thing he had not wanted to do.  Engaging the older man was like provoking a snake.  Uryuu knew this, but that small streak of defiance within him suddenly and vehemently demanded to be given voice.   
  
“What would you have me tell you, Ryuuken?  Do you really want to know that I'm at the top of my class and that my instructor believes I'm good enough to medal in the Junior Olympics?  Do you plan on watching me compete?  Or chaperoning a road trip? You don’t care so why are we discussing it?”

“The chicken is a touch dry,” Ryuuken said, poking at the breast with his fork.  “I will be coming home late more often over the next few weeks.  Do keep that in mind unless you _prefer_ serving mediocre meals.”

And just like that, he had won.  Because it was enough for him to get a rise out of the teen, to see him surrender his carefully constructed composure before dismissing him completely.  Uryuu knew this, and he had fallen for it yet again. 

He was tempted to push aside his plate as his hunger had dulled considerably in the space of a few minutes.  But instead, he forced himself to resume eating, lest he be coolly reminded of starving children in third world countries and all the other perils inherent with being wasteful, as well as why he should be grateful to have a parent patient enough to forgive him such a grievous oversight.

Uryuu loathed him to no end.

But conversely…

*****

He climbed into bed with a gusting sigh, exhausted to the bone.  After dinner, as Ryuuken retired to his office to do whatever important thing it was that he needed to do, Uryuu washed and dried all of the dishes by hand--his personal preference, even though they owned a dishwasher.  He then settled at his desk to tackle his homework until Ryuuken handed him the telephone with visible disapproval.  After talking to Orihime for half an hour about  movies and music and some sort of god-awful thing that she had concocted in the kitchen that he would not have tasted upon penalty of torture, Uryuu finished his studies, hopped into the shower, and threw on his pajamas.  And now, he was calling it a night.   

He placed his glasses on the nightstand and set his alarm for 5:00 am.  Although he did not even leave for school until almost three whole hours after that, a certain someone had a way of making him feel like a lazy bum for sleeping any longer, when there were so many other things that could be accomplished during that time besides pissing it away on slumber.  Uryuu had become accustomed to the pattern ages ago but still, and like many things about the Ishida household rituals, it vexed. 

Closing his eyes, Uryuu listened to the sound of quiet, not wanting to acknowledge that he was waiting for something he did not want to want.  After ten minutes or so, just when he thought--and not without some disappointment--that tonight would be a reprieve from the ordinary, the door to his bedroom opened and closed.

To his own horror and utter lack of surprise,  that alone was enough to make him hard. 

It wasn’t always like this.  One did not wake up one morning and decide to commit unspeakable acts with his father.  While contempt and disrespect and all other things dysfunctional had always been a part of their relationship, for as long as Uryuu could remember and for reasons he had long since stopped trying to understand, they were still father and son, and nothing more… until that fateful night, not long after Uryuu had turned sixteen. 

Up until that point, Ryuuken had hardly ever entered Uryuu’s room, let alone unannounced.   But he did that night, just as Uryuu was a few strokes away from coming into his hand.  Their eyes had locked across the room for what felt like forever, until Ryuuken broke their mutual gaze, his eyes deliberately trailing down Uryuu’s slender body to his swollen cock.  Uryuu had been embarrassed beyond belief… and more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life.  He could still remember the absolute mortification and unbelievably depraved ecstasy that surged through his body as he came all over himself without warning, right in front of his own father. 

Uryuu never did find out why Ryuuken came to visit him that particular night.  But as for the nights that followed, the reason was obvious.  At first, Ryuuken would simply sit on the edge of his bed, watching intently as Uryuu abused his body before leaving as wordlessly as he had arrived, the bulging tent of his pants revealing the truth behind his unreadable visage.  But as time passed, spectating soon gave way to participating, little by little until they finally fucked right there on the same bed that Uryuu had slept in as a child.    

Now here they were.

Although he could barely see Ryuuken in the dark, Uryuu could smell the smoke and cologne and want emanating from him and he twitched against the thin material of his pajamas.  He wondered just how long Ryuuken would make him suffer tonight.  The man had a way of drawing out pleasure to the point of agony, and many were the times when Uryuu was almost reduced to sobbing for release.  But tonight, it seemed that Ryuuken was going to have mercy on him, and the teen was almost unable to bite back a whimper of relief and gratitude as his blanket was pushed aside and his pajama bottoms were snatched down in one fast and smooth motion.   He hissed as the cool air hit his cock and again when Ryuuken knelt on the bed and smoothed a hand over his thigh, nudging it gently.  Instinctively, Uryuu parted his lean legs and he waited to hear the telltale cap snap of a bottle of lubricant.  What he heard instead was the rustling of sheets as Ryuuken crawled towards him and…

“Oh… _Ohfuck!!!_ ”

It was not often that Uryuu swore out loud.

But it was also not often that his cock was inside of Ryuuken’s mouth.

The sensation of wetness and heat and tight lips pursed around him, gliding up and down his shaft, taking him _all the way_ in, was such that Uryuu could not even scream.  All he could do was moan and shudder and keep his hands twisted in the sheets because in spite of all of that mind-rupturing bliss, he knew that Ryuuken would not allow him to grab or pet or otherwise touch his head in any manner.  Not that it mattered because it did not take long; even the skilled hands of a doctor were no match for the warm suction of a willing and able mouth, especially when said mouth rarely deigned to touch him. 

Uryuu gasped and threw back his head and cried out as Ryuuken sucked him off and _holy shit Ryuuken was swallowing his cum_ and it was so sick and twisted and hot as ever-loving fuck.  He went limp against the bed, shuddering and panting and rubbing his softening dick against his father’s tongue.  Then Ryuuken sat up on his knees and pulled out his own engorged cock and worked himself until he grunted and spurted across Uryuu’s torso. 

The room was silent afterwards, save for the sound of heavy breathing.  Slowly, Ryuuken rose to his feet and zipped his pants.  Uryuu trembled when he felt a finger run through the mess on his chest and tease his left nipple into a hard and sticky nub. 

“Change the bedding before you fall asleep,” Ryuuken instructed. 

“I always do,” Uryuu croaked.  As far as talking went, it was the only thing he could manage.

Satisfied, in _many_ ways , Ryuuken left the room.

Uryuu remained there for a moment longer, shivering as the older man's release began to cool against his pale skin.  Eventually, he shuffled into the bathroom, took another shower, and dressed again--in a fresh pair of pajamas this time, of course--before moving onto the sheets.  Then, with all of that done, Uryuu once again climbed into bed, too tired now to feel anything except completely drained, inside and out.  There would be plenty of time later to wallow in the right and oh so wrong of what he and Ryuuken were doing.  But for now, Uryuu just wanted to fall asleep.

And ten minutes later, he did, whereupon he dreamt that his stuffed lion Kon had come to life and was somehow able to possess Ichigo’s body.

What a weird thing, the subconscious. 


	3. School Daze

Physical Education was the first class of Uryuu’s day.  He initially hated the idea of having to go through the ordeal so early in the morning, but as the school year progressed, he became more and more grateful that he was able to tackle his biggest obstacle right off the bat instead of spending his entire day dreading the walk into the boy’s locker room and whatever hell awaited him.

He was not an athletic person by nature.  Aside from archery, which was more about patience and concentration than the ability to throw a ball or swing a bat, Uryuu was horrible at sports of any kind.  Luckily, students were graded on effort instead of skill… although if Kenpachi Zaraki would have had a say in the matter, anyone he deemed unworthy would have probably been executed rather than just given a failing grade.

The Physical Education teacher was a huge, muscle-bound, beast of a man, the type of person one did not want to encounter in broad daylight, let alone down a dark alley.  Standing at almost a staggering 6’8” and weighing in at nearly two hundred pounds, he was greatly feared by the students, and well as the staff, and rightfully so.  Uryuu had heard rumors that he had brought many of the school’s toughest guys to tears with a single one-eyed glare (his other eye was concealed with an ominous looking eye patch) and to look at the man, it was not hard to believe it.  Mr. Zaraki was the type that Uryuu suspected would be far more comfortable on a battlefield, slaying enemies and laughing with maniacal glee at the carnage.  And he probably would have done the same to some of the boys he taught if certain laws against assault and murder were not in place.

“On the track field in five!” he roared as he stormed through the locker room, paying no mind to the bodies that practically dove out of the way to avoid him.  There were no good mornings, no roll calling, just an order to be carried out promptly.  If one did not comply, it was far better to skip class, and quite possibly leave town altogether instead of face his wrath. 

Uryuu quietly slipped into a bathroom stall to change.  He did not care for the ritual of taking off his clothes in front of his peers.  Even if they did not make a habit of saying all sorts of awful things about him, it was an awkward and embarrassing act.  He thought it ironic, being called every gay slur imaginable by the same people who joked and played around with each other in various stages of undress.  But there was little else that he could do about it except give them as little ammunition as possible. 

When he was finished, he stepped out of the stall… and right into Ichigo.

“Shit, sorry.”  Ichigo’s face brightened with recognition when he saw who he had run into.  “Hey, Uryuu!”

Uryuu was mildly perturbed for _not_ being perturbed at seeing him. 

“Good morning.”

“So,” Ichigo began, his lip curving into a cheeky smile.  “Do you forgive me for yesterday?”

“If you mean your blatant disregard for following simple recipes, then… yes.”  Uryuu pushed up his glasses.  “I suppose,” he added indignantly. 

Ichigo grinned.  “At least we had fun though, right?”

Fun?  The word was not in Uryuu Ishida’s vocabulary.

However… as annoyed as he had been with Ichigo’s ineptitude, he had not had a _completely_ terrible time during class yesterday. 

But fun?  No way.  Never.

… Maybe.

“We should get going before Mr. Zaraki gets angry.  Well, _angrier_.”

“Fuck Kenpachi.”  Ichigo dismissed Uryuu’s concern with a casual wave of the hand.  “What’s he gonna do if we’re late?   Kill us?”

That was _precisely_ what Uryuu thought he would do if they were not outside in exactly sixty seconds.

“Alright, alright, fine.  Let’s go then,” Ichigo said.  And waited.

Uryuu was wholly taken aback. No one had ever waited for him before. 

He closed the door to the stall and said a silent prayer that no one would find it in their hearts to throw his clothes into the toilet--once was enough of that.  Uryuu then fell into stride beside Ichigo and they walked out of the locker room and onto the track field together, making it there with ten seconds to spare and thus postponing their demise at the hands of a madman for yet another day. 

*****

While students were normally required to eat their lunch in the cafeteria, most of the faculty turned a blind eye to the fact that Uryuu ate outside by himself under a tree near the freshman wing.  They were well aware of the cruelty of the other students, and when faced with the difficult task of having to keep some of the more unruly ones from smoking--or worse--behind the buildings, eating alone to avoid being picked on was hardly a crime worth disciplining. 

Although he occasionally wished that Orihime had the same lunch period, Uryuu enjoyed the solitude, as it was the only time of the day during school that he was truly ever at peace.  But unfortunately, it afforded him entirely too much time to think about things.  Well, one thing. 

One _person_.

If they all hated him now, he could not even begin to imagine how they would feel if they knew that he was having sex with his father.  And that he _liked_ it.

Obviously, it could not go on forever, this thing between him and Ryuuken.  Uryuu was graduating next year and had every single intention of going off to a college somewhere far, far away.  Perhaps one day, he might even meet a nice guy and settle down, with the house and the white picket fence and all of the other things that society thought those like him should not be allowed to have.  There was no place in his fantasy for Ryuuken, at least not as far as their present relationship was concerned.  And although the teen was not exactly certain where his father stood in that regard--gay or straight or all of the above--surely Ryuuken also wanted something… more.  Something that Uryuu could never give him.  So yes, it had to end sometime.

But not yet.  Not unless--

“Uryuu?”

Uryuu looked up from his lunch--last night’s leftovers--and found Ichigo standing there, staring back at him. 

“Ichigo.”  He paused, flustered at having been discovered while thinking what he was thinking. He knew that no one could read his mind, of course, but guilt often had a way of making the illogical seem perfectly logical.  “W-What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, duh.”  Ichigo sat down on the ground beside Uryuu without invitation.  “I was going to ask you if you wanted to sit with us during lunch but I couldn’t find you.”

Uryuu frowned.  “Us who?”

“Me and Chad and Keigo,” the teen replied, eyeballing Uryuu’s food.  “Man, that looks _really_ _good_.”

Uryuu stared at Ichigo’s bulging eyes and then he laughed. 

God help him, he actually laughed.

“You can have some if you stop drooling everywhere,” he said as he handed him his fork. 

Ichigo, who apparently did not possess the common decency to even _pretend_ to deny the offer, took the fork and dug in.   
  
“-angoo,” he managed through a mouth stuffed full of chicken.

_The chicken is a touch dry._

Uryuu forced aside the memory of Ryuuken’s taunt. 

“You’re welcome.  Now why don’t you try chewing it?  It’ll last longer.”

Ichigo grinned and Uryuu lowered his head and pushed up his glasses to hide the reluctant smile that found its way onto his face. 

“So why do you eat out here?” Ichigo asked after surrendering the fork to Uryuu.

“It’s just… easier this way.”

Ichigo picked at a random blade of grass near his foot.  “Because people are assholes.”

Uryuu smiled again, bitterly this time.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “But it’s not like you have anything to complain about.  Everyone likes you.”

“Here, maybe.  Back at my old school, everybody always gave me a hard time about this,” Ichigo said, tugging at a lock of his spiky orange hair.  “I even got into a couple of fights over it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Uryuu was stunned by the revelation.  Ichigo had such a confident and carefree attitude, it was difficult to imagine him having to endure meanness from anyone, especially over something as ridiculous as the color of his hair.

“Anyway.”  Ichigo stretched out his long legs and leaned back on his hands.  “If you want to eat with us from now on, that would be cool.”

Uryuu was silent for a moment. 

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked.

Ichigo blinked at him, curious.  “Doing what?”

“Being nice to me.”

“Because I want to.”

“But _why_?”

Ichigo shrugged and shook his head.  “ _Because I want to_ ,” he reiterated.   “Why does it have to be more complicated than that?”

Uryuu sighed.  Everything else in his life was complicated.  Could this really be any different?

“I’m sure you already know what people say about me,” he said quietly.  “If you hang around me, they may start saying the same thing about you.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I don’t give a shit what they say.”

The bell sounded, signaling the end of the lunch period.  Ichigo sat up and brushed his hands off on his jeans.   He then stood up and offered a hand to Uryuu.

Uryuu stared at it for a very long time.    

Eventually, he took it. 

It felt good.

And in the few seconds that their hands were joined, _Uryuu_ felt good. 

Which wasn’t good at all.


	4. Next Level

“Ichigo Kurosaki, if one more grain of salt goes into that sauce, I am going to kill you.”

Ichigo glanced at his kitchen partner, eyebrows raised.  “With _that_?” he asked.

Uryuu looked down at the stalk of celery that he brandished and then back at Ichigo with all the intimidation he could muster.   Which wasn’t much.  “Yes.”

The two teens grinned at each other.  Ichigo gave up and set down the salt shaker, which Uryuu immediately moved out of his way. 

The past week had been full of such moments, with Ichigo being Ichigo and Uryuu admonishing him for it.  For Uryuu, it was a pleasantly surreal experience, this male bonding kind of thing, and at some point along the way he realized that he had finally stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Ichigo was a lot of things, a lot of _frustrating_ things. 

But he wasn’t a jerk. 

“Pardon me, Chef Ishida?”

Correction: he wasn’t _always_ a jerk.

“What?”

“May I pepper the sauce, oh Great One?” Ichigo asked, even going so far as to bow.

Uryuu glared at him.  It was hard work when all he wanted to do was laugh.

He peered into the pot of simmering liquid and noticed that it was tragically lacking that particular seasoning.  “Fine,” he said.  “Just don’t go crazy with it.”

They resumed working in silence, each of them concentrating on their assigned tasks--stirring the sauce for Ichigo and everything else for Uryuu.  A noxious odor gradually emanated from the other side of the room and was immediately pinpointed to whatever in God’s name Keigo was doing.  Whatever was bubbling ominously in the pot before him didn’t smell remotely fit for human consumption, leading Uryuu to ponder if Keigo had been taking lessons from Orihime.  It was so bad that Ms. Taylor had to open the windows.  Uryuu did not believe that fresh air ever smelled so good.

“Say, Uryuu,” Ichigo said later, when he could breathe again.

“Hm?”

“Do you want to hang out sometime?”

“Aren’t we hanging out now?”

Ichigo smiled and shook his head at the teen’s ignorance.  “I meant _outside_ of school,” he clarified.  “Like, I don’t know, maybe go see a movie or something.”

Uryuu paused.  He was genuinely stunned by the offer.  On a deeper level, he understood this was the sort of thing that friends did together; he and Orihime had taken in a few flicks together in the past.

So why did the thought of doing it with Ichigo make his heart beat a little bit faster?

“Uh… yeah,” he managed, pushing up his glasses with a slightly shaky hand.  “Sure.”

“Cool.”  Ichigo snuck a few extra shakes of pepper into the sauce.  “How about today?”

“Today?” 

“Yeah.  We can go right after school.  That way it shouldn’t be so crowded.”

Ichigo was thinking of his comfort.  Uryuu was absurdly touched. 

Of course there was no logical reason that today was not as good as any other day.  Uryuu knew that.  Unfortunately, his hesitation had nothing at all to do with logic and everything to do with a certain silver-haired doctor.  Ryuuken liked order.  And an impromptu trip to the movie theater was not order.  Things had been going well between them the past week.  Rather, as well as things could ever go when it came to Ryuuken.  The judgmental gazes and condescension were at an all-time low and the sex, quite frankly, was amazing--not that he wanted to think about that too much in Ichigo’s presence. 

At any rate, it was a boat that Uryuu had absolutely no desire to rock.  But… he also really liked the idea of spending more time with Ichigo, as inexplicably nervous as it made him.  For goodness sake, he was actually looking forward to going to school now, something he never believed would happen. 

Was being with Ichigo worth having to endure his father’s eloquently scathing wrath?

“… Okay.”

He risked a glance at the other teen.  Ichigo was smiling at him in a way that made something in Uryuu falter. 

“S-Stir,” he barked at him, turning back to the stove.

Ms. Taylor came over to check their progress, and Uryuu had never in his life been so thankful for a diversion.  He thought back to Ichigo’s insane assertion that she and Mr. Zaraki had something going on.  A woman that sweet?  There was no way. 

He steeled himself as she sampled Ichigo’s sauce, preparing to offer a wide variety of excuses for its spectacular fail. 

“Not bad,” she said.  “But it could use a little more salt.”

*****

Uryuu had insisted that he did not have a preference what kind of movie they saw.  Although he had been subjected to more romances and comedies and romantic comedies than he could stand thanks to Orihime, he was fairly confident that he would not have to worry about having to watch yet another tale of love and loss and all of that other saccharine sweet crap.

But when Ichigo picked the scariest, goriest title that he could find, Uryuu strongly reconsidered his stance on all the lovey dovey stuff.

After the third character was killed off in the most horrific way, leaving behind only a ghastly blob of blood and chunks, he resigned himself to watching the rest of the film with one eye half-open and the other one closed completely.

“You okay?” Ichigo asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

Uryuu nodded.  He was far from okay, but damned if he was about to admit it.

He leaned back in his seat, determined to soldier his way through the remainder of the movie as best he could.  Uryuu brought his arm up to the armrest, bumped into Ichigo’s, and whispered a curt apology.  Honestly, whoever the hell designed armrests was a jerk. 

As the film played on--six deaths now, each one progressively grosser--Uryuu’s grip on the armrest increased, to the point where it seemed likely that he would rip it off altogether.  All the while, Ichigo just munched away merrily beside him, unaffected by the carnage.  Uryuu couldn’t see how he even had an appetite at all with everything going on.  As the movie reached the final arc, the killer--a supernatural being with a twisted sort of charisma, hence the fact that this was a sequel--prepared to go on his final rampage as the pretty heroine in the conveniently low cut shirt decided to fight back.  It was rather predictable, really.  But that didn’t make it any less creep—

Uryuu’s eyes widened in the dark theater.  Someone was eviscerated on the screen with extreme prejudice, followed by an inappropriately hilarious one-liner.  But that wasn’t the thing that just scared the hell out of him.

Ichigo’s hand was warm.  And very likely buttery.  And holding on tightly to Uryuu’s. 

The teen’s mind went blank.  He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, and when Ichigo’s thumb began stroking him gently, he was pretty sure that he wasn’t even breathing. 

Uryuu had never held hands with anyone before.  Oh, he’d had all the sex in the world.  But gestures of actual affection were not something that he was familiar with, aside from the occasional hug from Orihime, and he found that it frightened him more than anything, even the movie that they were currently watching. 

It frightened him because he _liked_ it. 

At some point, the movie eventually ended.  Uryuu could not even recall what happened exactly, except that evil had been unsurprisingly thwarted, but only in such a manner as to invite another sequel.  Ichigo let go of his hand as the credits rolled and the theater lights went up, and they waited until the initial swarm of exiting moviegoers diminished before standing up.

“So,” Ichigo said, gathering up his empty soda cup and empty Raisinets box and empty popcorn bucket.  “Did you like it?”

Uryuu was stunned by his casualness, as if suddenly deciding to hold a guy’s hand during a movie was the most normal thing in the world.

“It was… interesting,” he said.  He would have normally offered more commentary than that if not for the fact that he had been extremely distracted.

“You’re picking next time.”  Ichigo spotted a second Raisinets box on his seat and grabbed it.  Yes, he had eaten just that much.  “Anything you want.”

Uryuu wasn’t sure if he could even recover from _this_ time, let alone think about a next time.

They left the theater and got into Ichigo’s car.

“Hey, Uryuu,” Ichigo began as he buckled his seatbelt.  “I didn’t, you know, weird you out or anything, did I?”

“N-No,” Uryuu insisted.  “But... I just… assumed that… you were…”

“Straight?”

 “… Yeah.”

Ichigo smiled and shrugged.  “I don’t know, labels really aren’t my thing.  I just… like who I like.”

Uryuu gaped at the young man, his expression bearing the question that he didn’t dare ask out loud.

“Yes, you,” Ichigo said.  “I kinda figured it was obvious by now.”

He turned on the radio and drove out of the theater parking lot.  Uryuu was glad for the music because he had absolutely no idea what to say. 

Ichigo liked him.  Ichigo liked _him_. 

How was that even possible?

Uryuu stared out of the window.  He caught his reflection in the glass.

He was smiling.

And he continued to do so until Ichigo pulled into his driveway… where Ryuuken was getting out of his car.

 


	5. Staking Claim

Uryuu’s heart began to pound.  Although he had already made the decision to face whatever consequences might have occurred by accepting Ichigo’s invitation to the movies, he did so under the assumption that Ryuuken would be working late again, as he had the past week.  That way his worst perceived offense would have been a delayed dinner, and nothing more than that.  But arriving home the same time as his father was the last thing that he expected. 

And the absolute _worst possible thing_ that could have happened.

He could practically _feel_ the chill of Ryuuken’s gaze through the windshield of Ichigo’s car.  While the man’s outward expression was no different from usual, it was what lurked beneath his father’s cool exterior that frightened Uryuu most of all.  It would not have been so potentially tragic if he had been with Orihime.  But that he was with Ichigo… another _guy_ …

“Is that your dad?” Ichigo asked.  When he did not receive a response, he turned to the troubled teen.  “ _Uryuu_.”

“Huh?”  Ichigo’s voice snapped him out of his rumination.  Uryuu looked at him, praying that he did not appear as scared as he felt.  “What?”

“I asked if that was your dad.”  The orange-haired teen stared at him for a moment.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Uryuu insisted, although he was so very not.  “And yeah, that’s my… father.” 

He quickly unfastened his seatbelt and grabbed his bag from the floor.  The sooner Ichigo left, the better.  For everyone. 

It had been nice, _really_ nice, pretending that he had a normal life for a little while.  Now it was time to go back to reality. 

“Well, thank you for--”

“I want to meet him,” Ichigo said as he opened his car door.

A spike of terror ripped through Uryuu.  “Ichigo, wait!”

By the time he finished speaking, Ichigo was already out of the car.  Uryuu would have gladly died right then if he could. But since he could not do that, he had no choice but to face his fate.

“Shit.”

Uryuu got out of the car and approached the two of them, taking special care not to look directly at Ryuuken.

“Uh… Ichigo, this is my father.”

The teen swallowed hard.  Apprehension aside, he was mortified down to his soul at having verbally referred to Ryuuken as his father not once but _twice_.  But far better that than put himself into a position where he would have to explain why he called him by his first name.

Uryuu turned towards Ryuuken--still avoiding eye contact--and continued.  “This is my classmate, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Ishida,” Ichigo said, extending his hand.

For one awful moment, Uryuu was afraid that Ryuuken would not say or do anything, but ultimately, he should have known better.  The older man was a lot of things behind closed doors, but he took great care to ensure that his public persona was impeccable.  Blatant rudeness was never acceptable.

“ _Doctor_ Ishida,” Ryuuken corrected as he shook the teen’s hand.  “Kurosaki… Are you related to Isshin Kurosaki, by any chance?”

Ichigo was stunned by the recognition.  As was Uryuu.

“He’s my dad,” Ichigo said.  “Do you know him?”

“I met him at a convention years ago.  He… made an impression.”

Ichigo chuckled and shook his head.  “Yeah, he has a way of doing that.”

“I had no idea that he moved to the area.”  Ryuuken paused, his eyes moving between the young men.  “Or that the two of you were such good friends.”

The emphasis on _good friends_ was almost undetectable, but just enough that Uryuu knew full well what Ryuuken was implying. 

“Yes, we are,” Ichigo replied cheerfully, none the wiser. 

Ryuuken’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.  A small gesture in and of itself, but to Uryuu it spoke volumes.

In other words, this was bad.  _Very_ bad.

“Well then.  Have a nice evening, Ichigo.  And give my regards to your father.”

Uryuu waited until Ryuuken went inside before speaking. 

“I-I should go, too.” He realized that he was fidgeting with the strap of his bag and made himself stop. “I had a really good time, Ichigo.”  In spite of his urge to panic, Uryuu smiled.  “Thank you.”

Ichigo smiled back at him.  Uryuu was not sure how he managed not to swoon. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” the teen said.   “This is the kind of stuff that good friends do.”

Again, the emphasis was slight.  However, this time it filled Uryuu with hope instead of dread. 

“See you tomorrow, Uryuu.” 

“Okay.”

Ichigo remained where he stood a little bit longer, as if there was something else he wanted to say.  Or do.  But instead, he got into his car.  Uryuu watched him drive away until his rear lights were no longer visible. 

He was gone.  As were any lingering good feelings that Uryuu might have had.

Unable to hold off the inevitable any longer, he sighed and walked into the house.

*****

Uryuu rummaged through the refrigerator in search of something quick and simple to prepare.  Even half an hour was pushing it, but there was no way he wanted to risk taking any longer than that.

Steaks would be easy enough.  Uryuu grabbed a pack of them and placed them on the counter.  As he was deciding on the quickest way to prepare a potato side dish short of using the microwave (which was pure blasphemy), he heard Ryuuken enter the kitchen.

“Dinner won’t take long,” he promised him without turning around.  Doing so would have only wasted more time.  Not to mention the fact that he simply did not want to.  Uryuu steeled himself for whatever wretched thing that Ryuuken was surely about to say or do.  Usually, he could gauge his father’s reactions to certain situations, but since this was something entirely new, Uryuu had absolutely no idea what was going to happen. 

“We’re having steak?” Ryuuken asked quietly. 

“Yes.  Don’t worry.  I’m well aware that you like yours medium--”

Uryuu froze as Ryuuken’s hand slid around his waist and down to his crotch.

And squeezed.

_“Ahhh!”_

Uryuu fell against the counter, cringing in embarrassment and ecstasy as Ryuuken fondled him.  Something hard and urgent pressed against his ass and he was revolted by just how much it aroused him, how much he wanted it, _needed_ it inside of him.

“Pants,” Ryuuken breathed into his ear, letting go of him.

Uryuu hurriedly wrestled his pants open and shoved them down to his knees, wincing as the cool air of the kitchen washed over his skin.  His cock twitched when he heard the snap of a bottle cap, and again when slick digits penetrated him, twisting and stretching and curling. 

The teen groaned as his neglected cock strained in the air.  He wanted to touch it so badly that it hurt, and he would have if not for the certainty of censure.  Instead he thrust his hips as hard as he could, fucking himself on Ryuuken’s fingers and hating that he loved it. 

After what felt like a lifetime, Ryuuken finally pulled free of him and unfastened his own pants.  Uryuu found himself being bent roughly over the counter and he hissed sharply when Ryuuken pushed into him without care or remorse. 

The soothing coolness of the counter against his cheek was a stark contrast to the searing heat that ravaged the other end of his body.  Uryuu braced himself as best he could while Ryuuken fucked him, grunting as each vicious thrust tore into him, overcome with both pleasure and pain. 

“Is this what you want to do with your little friend?” Ryuuken asked, his voice unexpectedly calm as he took him.  “Would you rather he was the one fucking you right now?”

Uryuu was instantly horrified.  Ichigo was too good, too _wonderful_ to be mentioned during a time like this.

“Or would you rather him _join_ us?”

Uryuu shook his head vigorously.  He refused to sully the thought of Ichigo because of Ryuuken’s vile suggestion. 

He shut his eyes tightly, as if that would somehow block out the idea. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

The imagery filled his mind in a sickening rush: Ichigo, on his knees and staring up at him, sucking him off while Ryuuken pounded him from behind.  Uryuu could almost feel his cock sliding past the teen’s lips, forcing its way into the warmth of his willing mouth until he was all the way in, right to the back of his throat.

“No,” he moaned, his balls clenching and his orgasm screaming towards the surface.  He was disgusted with himself for thinking of Ichigo like that and more turned on than he had ever been _because_ of it.

Uryuu came hard, without even being touched, while in his mind Ichigo was swallowing around him.  Ryuuken came right after, gripping his son about the hips and brutally driving into him until he was spent. 

Consumed by shame, Uryuu buried his face in the crook of his arm.  He did not say a word when Ryuuken withdrew from him and pulled up his pants.

“Let me know when dinner is ready,” the older man said.  “I do hope that it doesn’t take _too_ long.”

After Ryuuken left the kitchen, Uryuu slowly stood upright and stared blindly into empty space.  There were no words that could properly describe how depraved he felt right now, standing there with his father’s cum running down his thighs, having thought things that he never, _ever_ should have thought.

If this was Ryuuken’s idea of punishment, then mission accomplished. 

Uryuu let out a long, shuddering sigh.

He knew what he had to do.  He didn’t want to do it, but it was ultimately for the best.

Because Ichigo deserved _far_ better than anything that Uryuu would ever be able to give him.


	6. Quiet Time

A most welcome quiet filled the library during first period, in startling contrast to the sound of roaring teachers and adolescent banter that Uryuu had become accustomed to in Physical Education.  It was a refreshing change from the ordinary, and he almost wished that it could always be like this.  Of course it was not as if he was clamoring for potential mockery; there was one reason, and one reason only, that Uryuu enjoyed the calamity known as Phys. Ed. these days. 

Well, one _person_ , rather.  But he did not want to dwell too much on that right now, not if he could help it.

Mr. Zaraki had glared bloody murder at Uryuu when the teen handed him the note excusing him from any manner of physical activity for the day.  Then again, the hulking beast of a man glared bloody murder at everyone and everything, all the time, so that was nothing new.  While Uryuu had expected some sort of curse-laden reprimand for being unable to participate in class, Mr. Zaraki had surprised him by merely grunting his disapproval and sending him to the library, where he sat now, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and wincing at the dull, throbbing pain in his backside.

Ryuuken had written the note for him without complaint.  Then again, it was only fair that he did so, considering the fact that he was the reason for Uryuu’s inability to perform.  The man had kept at him well into the night, until Uryuu was finally reduced to begging for mercy and release--the two things that Ryuuken Ishida did not grant lightly.  The young man harbored no illusions about the cause of Ryuuken’s exuberance, which was more about punishment than pleasure.  Uryuu had overstepped, and Ryuuken corrected him with a vengeance.

His fingers tapped lightly against _The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe_ , which sat on the table in front of him unopened and forgotten.  As much as he had tried to avoid it, his thoughts were soon permeated by the vision of spiky orange hair and inquisitive eyes, filling Uryuu with a serenity to which he did not feel entitled.  He was still mortified at having allowed Ichigo to become a part of his disgusting fantasy, and it was just as well that he did not have to face him first thing in the morning.  Ichigo, who was so sweet and kind and silly and frustrating and lovely, who deserved far better than anything that Uryuu could ever hope to offer him.  He was a fool to think, even for a minute, that he could have had a friendship, a _relationship_ , with someone like that.  Not while he and Ryuuken were still… whatever they were.

Uryuu sighed and took off his glasses.  Everything around him became a blur, which was somehow fitting.  He took a handkerchief from his bag and wiped them clean while plotting the best course of action for dealing with the rest of his day.  Avoiding the teen at lunch would be easy enough.  Although he enjoyed his usual spot, there were plenty of places throughout the campus where he could hide and eat in peace.  (Uryuu had tried eating with Ichigo, Chad, and Keigo inside the cafeteria once and ended up feeling like some sort of zoo exhibit what with all the staring.)  Home Ec. would be a little more difficult to manage since his doctor’s excuse did not extend to cooking.  And it was not as if he could just skip the class altogether.  He was just going to have to soldier his way through as best he could until that particular aspect of the curriculum was over and they could go back to being strangers sitting on opposite ends of the classroom.  Assuming, of course, that such a thing was even possible after everything that had already happened between them.

Easy enough, right?

After slipping his glasses back on, Uryuu checked the time and saw that the period would be ending in about fifteen minutes.  He grabbed the book and headed down the appropriate row in order to return it, taking great care to walk as normally as he could stand without drawing attention to himself.

“Uryuu!”

Uryuu spun around, horrified that his name was being yelled out loud, breaking the silence… yet pleased beyond words at the sight of the one doing the yelling.

“Ichigo,” he whispered sharply as the young man approached him.  “Why aren’t you in class?”

“I left early.” Ichigo stopped and leaned against the shelf of books behind him, noticeably out of breath.  “I heard some of the guys say that you were hurt so I ditched to find you.”

“Hurt?”

Well, it was understandable that that would be the rumor.  A doctor’s note usually indicated something to that effect.  But hell would freeze over before Uryuu divulged that he was too sore to do much of anything pertaining to physical activity on account of being fucked too long and too hard by his father.

“I’m fine,” he reassured the worried teen.  “I was just… feeling a little achy this morning so Ryu--my father wrote me an excuse.”

Ichigo stared at him for a moment, peering into him as if trying to ascertain the validity of his claim.  “Okay,” he said finally, seemingly convinced.

“Mr. Zaraki is going to kill you.”  While Uryuu was infinitely flattered by his friend’s gesture, he had no desire whatsoever to be the cause of his demise.

“Hell with him,” Ichigo replied, shrugging off the concern.  “Besides, he’ll have to catch me first.”

Uryuu smiled.  The boy’s indifference to his own fate never ceased to amaze or amuse him.

Their eyes met across the aisle and Uryuu felt something bloom in his chest, something frightening and wonderful and far too good to be true.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly, turning away from that maddening gaze and returning the book to its rightful place with a shaky hand.  A far less shaky hand came to rest against the shelf in front of him, and even without turning around, Uryuu could _feel_ Ichigo right there behind him, tantalizingly close.

“Uryuu…”

Uryuu squeezed his eyes shut as Ichigo’s breath ghosted across his ear and neck.  At that point, it was safe to say that his plan to avoid him was failing _spectacularly_.

“… did I do something wrong?”

The unexpected query stunned Uryuu.  “What?”

Ichigo let out a long, slow sigh against Uryuu, who miraculously managed not to succumb to the buckling in his knees.

“You were acting kind of strange when we got to your house last night,” Ichigo explained.  “You said that I didn’t weird you out, but… I don’t know… I feel like maybe I really did.”

“No, you didn’t.”  Uryuu spun around and forced himself to look Ichigo in the eyes.  It was killing him, the dangerous lack of space between them.  But Uryuu could not allow him to believe that he had any blame for his own fucked up situation with Ryuuken.  “I swear.”

Ichigo nodded in acceptance and Uryuu assumed that would be the end of it… which was why he was caught completely off guard by the fingers that gently swept back a lock of his dark hair.

“I-Ichigo,” Uryuu stuttered.

Ichigo trailed a path along Uryuu’s jaw.  “I really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured.

“W-We’re in the library,” Uryuu argued, wide-eyed and red-faced and heart pounding wildly.

“I know,” Ichigo agreed, moving closer.

“Someone might see us,” Uryuu tried again.

“I know.”  Closer still.

“But… but…”

Uryuu gasped as warm lips closed over his. 

And nothing else mattered after that.

*****

Between his daze and the bell that indicated the end of first period, Uryuu almost did not hear Ichigo ask him to meet up for lunch.

“Um…” was all he could manage as they stepped out of the library and into a growing crowd of students reluctant to make haste to their next class of the day.

“What, you have other plans?” Ichigo asked jokingly, ignoring a cluster of ogling girls.

“No, it’s just--”

“Ichigo.”

Uryuu was spared by the arrival of Chad.

“Mr. Zaraki is coming this way,” the soft-spoken giant informed his friend.

“Aw, shit.  Thanks, Chad.”  Ichigo glanced about the hallway before returning his attention to Uryuu, favoring the teen with a knowing smile. “Lunch.  Outside.  You and me.”

He took off running before Uryuu could respond properly.  A few seconds later, Mr. Zaraki stormed past, all but plowing through the bodies in his way.  He was at least gracious enough to tell the female students to get the hell out of his way as opposed to bowling them over completely.

Well, this… this was definitely _not_ how things were supposed to be going.  Uryuu had meant to cut his ties with Ichigo, sever them completely.

He was not supposed to be reeling over his first kiss.

He was not supposed to be anticipating a lunch date.

He was not supposed to be… _happy_.

Yet he was all of those things, undeniably.

“So,” he began after he could no longer spot the holy terror in the distance.  “I guess I better get going, too.  Goodbye, Chad.”

“Uryuu.”

Uryuu paused and blinked at the tall, perpetually expressionless teenager.  “Yes?”

“… Good luck.”

Chad offered a small nod of encouragement before going on his way, leaving Uryuu to stare after him, stupefied.

Eventually, he shouldered his bag and made his way towards his next class.  His mind was racing from the events of the past ten minutes and he was overcome with a sensation that he had never known before.

So this was what optimism felt like, huh?

Uryuu liked it.  A lot.   
  
He also thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted the chance to get used to it.

No matter the cost.

And even if he didn't deserve it.


	7. Opening Up

“Ichigo, are you sure that this is okay?” Uryuu asked as the teen led him around the back of the school to an obscure spot just beyond the teacher’s lounge.  It was forbidden territory as far as most of the student body was concerned, and Uryuu was fit to be tied at Ichigo’s daring.

“It’s fine.”  Ichigo sat down on a patch of grass, happy as a lark, and patted a spot beside him.  “Live a little, will ya?”

Uryuu was perfectly fine with the concept of living a little.  As long as he didn’t die from it.

He clutched his lunch and sat down beside the orange-haired rebel, eyes wide and peering for any sign of authority.  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.  What was wrong with our usual spot?”

_Our?_

Uryuu wasn’t exactly sure when his regular lunchtime hangout had taken on dual ownership.  But he realized that he was very much okay with the idea.

“Nothing,” Ichigo said as he dug into his own bag of goodies.  He unwrapped a monstrosity that had what appeared to be about a pound of salami and ham shoved between two slices of bread and took a huge bite.  “I just thought it would be cool to try something a little different,” he added through a mouthful of food. 

Well… it wasn’t as if Uryuu _hated_ the location.  He discovered that seclusion was actually kind of nice when it was voluntary. 

They ate in silence, which was only broken when Uryuu attempted to give Ichigo a bite of his pasta and veggies.  Ichigo was appalled that one of the veggies was asparagus and offered up some choice commentary when Uryuu suggested that he try it.  A highly amused Uryuu playfully questioned the young man’s bravado and tried not to laugh as Ichigo tasted the vile food purely out of spite.

“It’s awful,” he muttered with a scowl.

Uryuu was tempted to ask why he was helping himself to another bite if it tasted so terrible but opted instead to remain quiet in his victory. 

When they finished eating, they still had about twenty minutes to kill before the lunch period ended.  Neither teen felt like facing the masses just yet, so they leaned against the brick, close but not too close, and talked instead. 

“Man, I’m stuffed,” Ichigo said while he rubbed his stomach.

“Well, you _did_ just eat a whole pig.”

Ichigo grinned.  “My little sister did that.  I swear she thinks I’m going to starve to death or something.”

“Not at the rate you’re going,” Uryuu quipped.

He smiled when Ichigo gave him a light jab on the arm.  Even though it really did hurt a little bit. 

“So which sister was this?” He already knew that Ichigo had fraternal twin sisters but was not yet able to keep them straight. 

“Yuzu.  She’s our little homemaker.” 

Ichigo smiled fondly and Uryuu felt an unexpected pang of envy.  The concept of family was lost on him since his grandfather died.  Sure, Ryuuken was his father, but the word hardly held the kind of meaning that it should have.

“Do you ever wish that you had brothers?” he asked.

“I did when I was younger,” Ichigo admitted.  “I wanted someone I could toss a ball around with and whatever, and I thought that girls were too delicate for that stuff.  Karin totally proved me wrong there.”

He smiled again.  Uryuu closed his hand into a fist, the urge to touch Ichigo sudden and strong.

“But now?  Not so much,” he continued.  “You get what you get.  What about you?  Do you ever wish that you weren’t an only child?”

Uryuu shrugged.  “I never gave it much thought, to be honest.  It’s just been me and… my father… for so long that--”

“You know you don’t have to do that, Uryuu.”

The teen blinked at Ichigo.  “Do what?”

“Keep saying ‘my father’ if it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t…”

Yes, it did.

Ichigo turned to face him.  “You look like you’re going to hurl every time you say it,” he pointed out.  “It’s not like I’m going to judge you if you don’t get along with your dad.”

Oh, if only it was as simple as not getting along. 

“It’s just…”  Uryuu pushed up his glasses and sighed.  “It’s complicated.”

Complicated.  That was one way to describe his relationship with Ryuuken.  It sounded a whole lot better than sinful, depraved, sick, and disgusting.

And he had been so happy the entire morning, what with the kiss and everything.  But even when Ryuuken wasn’t there, he seemed to have a knack for making Uryuu feel like shit. 

The young man frowned, his eyes downcast and his fingers fidgeting.  He was so caught up in his angst that he did not notice Ichigo scooting closer to him until a strong and steady arm curled around his waist.

“Uryuu…”

Uryuu trembled.  He couldn’t help it.  There should have been some sort of law against being able to say someone’s name in a way that resonated throughout a person’s entire body.

He did not resist when Ichigo took him by the chin and turned his head. 

Their eyes met.

And then their lips.

And then--

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, you dirty little slut.”

Ichigo and Uryuu parted and looked in the direction of the interruption, their eyes full of curiosity.

And then _horror._

Because less than ten feet away from them, Mr. Zaraki and sweet, dear Ms. Taylor were groping and fondling each other against the wall, apparently too caught up in their own… doings… to realize that they were not alone.

Ms. Taylor, who simply _couldn’t_ be a dirty little slut (she was British, for goodness sake!) proceeded to wrap her legs around the big man’s waist and… do things… things that Uryuu would not soon forget. 

“Oh, Kenny,” she moaned.

“Oh, God!” Ichigo shouted.

The teachers finally saw that they had an audience.  An extremely flustered Ms. Taylor unlatched herself from the Phys. Ed. teacher and primly smoothed down her skirt as if that would undo what had been done while Mr. Zaraki glared.  And glared.  _And glared._

And this was the point when Uryuu thought that he really might die from living a little.

“Boys!” the Home Economics teacher yelled.  “What are you doing back here?”

“Learning more than I ever will in a classroom,” Ichigo said.

Uryuu was mortified.  With half the school day left to go, bladder control was a luxury he could ill afford to lose. 

“Ichigo, _shut up!_ ” he hissed sharply.

Mr. Zaraki took a step towards them, prompting them both to rise to their feet and slowly back away.

“Get the hell out of here,” he growled.

Uryuu was more than willing to comply.  Ichigo, on the other hand…

“Alright, alright.  Settle down…” A wicked smile spread on his face.  _“… Kenny.”_

The teen took off with Mr. Zaraki in hot pursuit, shouting a quick “See you in Home Ec!” to Uryuu as he ran for his life. 

Ms. Taylor sprinted after the two of them in an effort to keep her lover from dismembering her student.

And Uryuu could only lean back against the wall in relief, grateful to have survived the experience without pissing his pants.

*****

Later, they sat in the driveway of Uryuu’s house, reliving the events of the day.  Obviously, Ichigo survived the attempt on his life.  But sadly, Uryuu did not believe that it would stop the reckless youth from provoking Mr. Zaraki in the future.

“I swear you have a death wish.”

“I’m telling you, he’s all talk,” Ichigo insisted.

“I’ll remember that when he’s murdering you.”

Ichigo snorted laughter and reached across the seat, taking Uryuu’s hand. 

Uryuu smiled.  He had been doing so much of that lately where Ichigo was concerned that it was starting to feel... normal.

“Thanks for giving me a ride home,” he said.

“You’re welcome.  Ever thought about getting a license?”

Nodding, Uryuu replied, “I have this archery thing in a few weeks, but after that, I was actually thinking about taking driving lessons.”

Ichigo perked up.  “Archery thing?  Like a competition?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice.  I’d love to see it.”

“… Really?”

“Yeah, really.”  Ichigo chuckled and squeezed Uryuu’s hand.  “You’re like Legolas and shit.  I think that’s awesome.”

Uryuu turned to look out of the window, hoping that his embarrassment and joy were not evident in its reflection.  Ichigo had just compared him to Legolas and called him awesome.

His life was now complete.

*****

Well, _almost_.

He stepped inside of the house and just like that, his good feelings were no longer quite as good.  Uryuu kicked off his shoes and tossed his bag on a chair--both crimes of epic proportions in a house that thrived on neatness and order--and plopped down on the couch to gather his thoughts.  Dinner could wait.  Besides, Ryuuken would not be home for about two more hours; Uryuu could have it done in one, depending on the entree.

He took off his glasses and carefully set them on the floor (another egregious no-no) then stretched out along the cool leather and closed his eyes.  His mind was a seesaw of imagery, a tug-of-war between two people he desired very much and in very different ways. 

So which one would he choose?

As it turned out, the answer to that question was surprisingly easy.

The _real_ question, though, was the one that sent a staggering bolt of fear right to the teen’s heart:

What would Ryuuken do to him once he found out?


	8. Not Yet

Deciding to break off an illicit affair was easy.

Deciding _when_ to break it off?  Apparently not so much. 

For Uryuu, there was hardly ever a good time to talk to Ryuuken in general, let alone to tell him that he no longer wanted any part in their physical relationship.  The man was an impenetrable wall of ice, cold and unyielding, even on a good day.  And he had already made his disapproval of Uryuu’s friendship with Ichigo resoundingly clear.  What on earth was going to happen when he found out that Ichigo was the reason that Uryuu was ending it?

The teen had remained silent during dinner.  Every time he opened his mouth to try and broach the subject, he hesitated by way of shoving a forkful of food into it.  Fortunately, the lack of conversation was nothing new and his apprehension went unnoticed.  He wasn’t feeling much braver after dinner either, and spent two hours staring blindly at his homework while trying to work up the nerve to confront his father.  Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Now the day had come to an end.  Uryuu was on auto-pilot as he went through his bedtime ritual, his mind consumed with thoughts of the inevitable as he showered, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed for a sleep that would be a long time coming, if at all.  Because any moment now, Ryuuken was going to walk through his door.  And when he did…

Uryuu pulled his blanket up to his chin, even though he wasn’t cold.  He tried to reason with himself; it wasn’t as if Ryuuken was going to react violently to the news.  In all the years of Uryuu’s life, the man had never once raised his voice nor lifted his hand towards him… at least not in an abusive way.  And long gone were the times when Ryuuken’s disapproval actually mattered to Uryuu.  Oh, it still did to some degree, buried deep down in that place he rarely acknowledged where all sons longed to be accepted by their fathers.  But overall, it wouldn’t be much different than any other of the many, many ways in which he had let Ryuuken down.  So in that respect, he had nothing to worry about.  Or so he wanted to believe.

Right on time, the door to Uryuu’s bedroom opened, filling the young man with simultaneous dread and anticipation--his body was still quite used to Ryuuken’s nightly visits, after all, and it did not hesitate to react accordingly.  Uryuu peered at the figure in the doorway and cursed himself for not dealing with the situation sooner, in a different room, on a more level playing field; even though he was on his own turf in his bedroom, so to speak, Ryuuken’s influence on Uryuu was strongest there, as evidenced by the throbbing between his legs. 

The doctor entered the room and approached Uryuu’s bed.  He paused beside it and stared down at his son, frowning slightly at the way he was tightly bundled.  “Do you not feel well?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

Ryuuken had purposely left the door open, allowing the light from the hallway to illuminate the bedroom just enough so that they could see each other clearly.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully regarded the teen, much like he had done back in the days when he was just a spectator to Uryuu’s debasement. 

“Are you cold?” he tried again. 

“I said I’m fine.”

If Ryuuken was upset by the display of disrespect, he did not show it.  Instead, he calmly took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand next to the pair that already rested there.

“Don’t be cheeky, Uryuu.  I’m feeling rather generous tonight.”

Uryuu trembled beneath the thick cover as a hand smoothed its way along his chest and took its sweet time moving downward.  Whatever resolve he had was obliterated when that same hand found his erection and squeezed.  Damn it all, it felt good, even through the blanket. 

“Your odd cocooning led me to believe that perhaps you were still feeling the effects of last night’s… overexertion.”

Ryuuken squeezed again, and smirked when Uryuu whimpered and thrust against his palm.

“I see that I needn’t have worried.”

Uryuu closed his eyes as first the blanket and then his pajamas were stripped away.  He didn’t want to look directly at his father’s awful and handsome face, didn’t want him to see just how much he wanted him, even though his body was doing a good job of communicating that fact, regardless.  Ryuuken climbed onto the bed, still fully clothed, and straddled Uryuu’s lean hips. 

“Tell me what you want, Uryuu,” Ryuuken said.

The chaotic whirlwind of disgust and desire that had overrun Uryuu’s brain was brought to a sudden and jarring halt, undone by six words.  Simple words individually yet monumental when strung together to form a statement that Uryuu had no reason to think he would ever hear.

“… What?”

Ryuuken sighed as if the burden of enunciating for his dimwitted son was a cross no man should have to bear.  “I told you that I’m feeling generous tonight.  So tell me what you want.”

Only then did Uryuu open his eyes and meet Ryuuken’s steel gaze.  He had to see the truth of it on his face.  The man was many things… except a liar.  But even so, Uryuu could hardly believe what Ryuuken was saying.  Just as he had never yelled or struck, he also never yielded.  _Never_.

So why was he doing it now?  Was it because of the night before?  That couldn’t be the case.  It simply couldn’t.  And on the off, _off_ chance that it was, then surely it was just a clinical kind of generosity.  Ryuuken Ishida was not the type of individual who felt much of anything, emotionally speaking, especially remorse and concern.

Uryuu pondered all of these things in the span of seconds, but then Ryuuken wrapped his hand around him and began to stroke and after that, he couldn’t have cared less about the reason for the uncharacteristic offer. 

“I strongly suggest that you do not test my patience in this matter, Uryuu,” Ryuuken warned him, his thumb rubbing deliberately over the tip of the teen’s cock.  “Decide, or I will decide for you.”

What did Uryuu want?  He wanted to stop moaning and bucking his hips, sliding through the tightness of Ryuuken’s closed fist. 

Most of all, he wanted to _stop_ wanting him.

But that wasn’t happening.  Not tonight, at any rate.  He would have to stand his ground another day.

“Your mouth,” he finally croaked as he clutched at his sheets, humiliated.  Defeated. 

“What about my mouth?”

Uryuu blushed and cringed.  The bastard was actually going to make him say it.

“I want… your mouth… on me.”

Ryuuken smiled with cold triumph.  “Very well.”

He let go of Uryuu and moved down the bed, parting the young man’s legs wide.  Uryuu groaned as his cock eased past Ryuuken’s lips into the warmth of his mouth.  It was a feeling that defied description and sanity.  He dug into the sheets, not expecting to last much more than a minute but resigning himself to enjoy every single second of it… until he realized that nothing was happening.

Uryuu raised his head and glanced down at Ryuuken, who was staring right back at him.

Waiting.

Ryuuken was waiting… _for him_.

“Oh…”

Uryuu caved to his instinct and arched his hips. 

_“Ohhhhhhhh….”_

Then he did it again… and again… pushing up into Ryuuken’s mouth over and over until he settled into a rhythm that was shaky at best, watching his cock disappear between the older man’s lips, _feeling_ it glide against his tongue until it hit the back of his throat.  For one who had long since accepted the fact that he would probably never do much in the way of penetrating, having his way with Ryuuken like this was a dream come true in many ways. 

Ryuuken broke away long enough to shove two fingers into his mouth.  Uryuu knew what the man intended to do but still he flinched as spit-slick digits worked their way inside of him until they were all the way in, fucking him slowly, deeply. 

And then he cried out when they found the right spot. 

And then his body exploded from the inside out. 

That was _exactly_ what his orgasm felt like--one long, mind-breaking, never-ending explosion.   Uryuu broke the cardinal rule and let his fingers weave through silver-white hair, his hips shuddering and rocking, repeatedly forcing his cock deep into Ryuuken’s mouth and back onto his fingers until he flopped against the bed, still shaking, still feeling, still reeling over the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. 

Sometime later, Ryuuken withdrew his fingers and let Uryuu’s now flaccid length fall from his mouth.  Shortly after that, he cleared his throat expectantly.  At first, Uryuu didn't know why.  Then again, he didn’t know much of anything at that moment except pure physical bliss.  But as the fog began to clear, he realized that he still had Ryuuken’s hair in a death grip, holding the man’s head in place between his legs with no chance for escape.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, prying his fingers loose.

Ryuuken stood up from the bed, but not before Uryuu noticed what his pants were barely able to conceal.

“I will overlook it tonight.”  He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand.  “My generosity apparently knows no bounds.”

He wasn’t lacking on hubris either, Uryuu noticed.  But what else was new?

Their eyes met one last time in the dim light of the room.  Ryuuken then left without saying another word.

Uryuu blinked at the ceiling.   It was all he could do until his body permitted him to walk.  Now that the ecstasy was ebbing, the guilt and shame began to creep back in.  He had caved, first to his fear and then to his desire.  It was weak and contemptible and he hated himself for doing it. 

Tomorrow.  He would try again tomorrow. 

No.  He would _succeed_ tomorrow.  Whatever the consequences.

 


	9. Standing Ground

Uryuu stepped tentatively into the boys’ locker room, eyes wide and alert and scanning for signs of Mr. Zaraki.  Although he had done nothing wrong himself, he felt a sort of guilt by association after Icihgo’s behavior during lunch the day before.  For all he knew, the man might take his frustrations out on him since he was far easier to catch than the elusive orange-haired teen.  
  
He instinctively cringed when he heard the teacher roaring fury at someone else on the other side of the room.  But as it turned out, that was a good sign; if another poor soul was presently feeling his wrath, then that meant Uryuu was in the clear.  For the moment.  
  
Uryuu breathed a sigh of relief—  
  
“Hey!”  
  
— then almost jumped out of his skin when Ichigo snuck up behind him.  
  
“Damn it, Ichigo!”  Uryuu pushed up his glasses and glared.  
  
“Sorry,” Ichigo said, grinning.  
  
“Yeah, I can tell,” Uryuu replied.  “Look. Try not to get me killed today, okay?  I have a test next period.”  
  
“You worry too much, Uryuu.”  
  
“And you don’t worry enough.”  
  
 _“TEN MINUTES!”_ the gym teacher bellowed from the next row of lockers over, loud enough for the entire school to hear.  
  
“Alright, _Kenny_ ,” Ichigo muttered under his breath.  
  
“Ichigo…”  
  
“My bad.”  
  
Ichigo smirked, his brown eyes full of mischief.  Uryuu could only shake his head in return.  Why was he even trying to fight it anymore?  
  
Their eyes met for a moment, revealing things best left unspoken in a room full of hypermasculine guys.  Ichigo gave Uryuu a gentle pat on the arm (a risky move in and of itself as far as Uryuu was concerned) and headed towards his locker to change.  Uryuu walked over to his usual bathroom stall to do the same.  While closing the door, he discovered that he had another reason to be thankful for the privacy as he caught a glimpse of Ichigo peeling off his shirt.  
  
It wasn’t the first time that he had ever seen him shirtless.  Anyone who had ever taken a Physical Education course probably knew all too well what their classmates looked like while missing key articles of clothing.  But now that they were more than just acquaintances--even though he wasn’t sure what they were, exactly--it was the first time that Uryuu had actually _noticed_ the young man’s flawless and well-toned torso.  The sight of it caused the teen to redden profusely in embarrassment, hence his gratitude for locking himself away in a stall lest he get caught staring and give the others even more cause to taunt him and call him names.  
  
Uryuu took his time changing into his gym clothes, hoping like hell that the blush would go away.  When he was finished, he stepped out and found the young man leaning against a row of lockers, waiting.  It was hard not to admire just how good he looked, all laid back and casual with a T-shirt that clung in all the right places and shorts that weren’t _too_ short but just short enough to distract ever so pleasantly.  
  
“Ready?” Ichigo asked.  
  
Lowering his head, Uryuu pushed up his glasses again and nodded.  “Yeah.”  
  
They headed towards the back exit that led to the school’s track and baseball fields, their shoulders almost touching.  Once outside, they dutifully reported to the baseball field just in time to catch Mr. Zaraki threatening to extract a student’s spine in a very painful manner.  Although Uryuu sympathized with the boy, he was once again relieved to see the man’s attention diverted away from—  
  
“Yo, Kenpachi!” Ichigo shouted.  
  
The entire class froze in place, horrified--but not all that surprised--by his daring.  
  
Uryuu swore that he could feel the ground shake as the large man walked over to where they stood.  
  
“Kurosaki,” Mr. Zaraki growled.  “What the hell do you want?”  
  
Ichigo smiled, wholly unfazed by his imminent demise.  “I was just wondering if we would be seeing you at lunch again today.”  
  
“Oh my God.”  Uryuu closed his eyes.  He just knew that they were about to die in slow and agonizing ways…  
  
*****  
  
… except that they didn’t.  
  
“See?  I told you that he was all talk,” Ichigo said as he gripped a baseball tightly in his hands.  
  
Uryuu shook his head, unconvinced.  Personally, he did not believe it to be a matter of the teacher being all talk but rather not wanting to commit murder in plain sight.  Whatever the reason, Mr. Zaraki had let Ichigo off the hook with only a profanity-infused rant as punishment.  
  
“Alright.”  Ichigo held up the ball.  “Are you ready?”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
Uryuu frowned down at the baseball glove on his hand.  He then glanced around at the other students, all of whom were paired off and playing catch.  Sure, it looked easy enough.  But still…  
  
“Yeah,” he replied uncertainly.  
  
Ichigo tossed the ball to him gently, so gently that Uryuu might have been offended if he hadn’t been aware of his own inabilities… as evidenced by the way he completely missed catching it.  
  
“Sorry,” he muttered, chasing after it.  It was hard for him not to be humiliated by his performance, even though he knew that Ichigo already knew that sports were not his thing.  Uryuu usually couldn’t have cared less about such things, but he still had enough pride to want to be at least somewhat decent at it in front of the guy he wanted to impress.  He wanted Ichigo to smile proudly at him and say _Way to go, Uryuu!_ over some exceptionally spectacular athletic maneuver.  
  
With that in mind, he wound his arm the way that he remembered seeing it done somewhere on television and threw the ball as hard as he could… well over Ichigo and straight into the back of Mr. Zaraki’s head.  
  
Ichigo turned to Uryuu and smiled proudly.  
  
“Way to go, Uryuu!”  
  
*****  
  
It was hard for Uryuu to believe that one simple little thing could trigger a chain reaction that affected a person’s entire life.  Yet he couldn’t deny now that his life _had_ changed, and all because of that day in Home Economics, when Ms. Taylor assigned Ichigo to be his cooking partner.  It could have been someone else, and at the time, Uryuu had even wished it was someone else.  But it wasn’t.  
  
Uryuu smiled to himself as he tended the stove.  It still felt like a dream, all of this happiness.  Going to school was no longer a dreadful experience.  It was something he actually looked forward to now.  Oh, most of the kids were still jerks; that would probably never change.  But dealing with them was a lot more tolerable now that he was able to anticipate spending time with Ichigo throughout the day.  Some of them had even stopped giving him such a hard time altogether when they discovered that he hung out with Ichigo.  While the teen never seemed to notice or care about his own immense popularity, it clearly made a difference with regards to the company he kept.  
  
The front door opened and closed, and suddenly Uryuu’s good mood was a little less good.  He had managed to make it through most of the day without thinking too hard on what he was about to do, but now that the time had come…  
  
His fingers tightened around the spatula in his hand.  There could be no faltering tonight.  Not if he truly wanted a clean start with Ichigo.  And he did.  More than he wanted Ryuuken.  More than _anything_.  
  
He could do this.  
  
He _would_ do this.  
  
*****  
  
“I received a call today from Isshin Kurosaki,” Ryuuken said as he cut into his Chicken Kiev with all the precision inherent in his trade.  “Apparently, he found out that our sons were good friends and somehow felt that warranted an invitation to dinner.”  
  
Once again, the emphasis on _good friends_ did not go unnoticed, subtle though it was.  
  
“… Oh?”  Uryuu stared at his plate, had been staring at it since he served dinner, to be exact.  He supposed he wasn’t all that surprised that Ichigo might have mentioned him to his father.  Regular father-son relationships probably involved a degree of communication with which he was vastly unfamiliar.  “Are you going to accept?”  
  
“I suppose I will have to,” the doctor replied.  “Tell me, Uryuu.  Do you have any other classmates whose parents are in the medical profession and may one day feel the need to impose upon me?”  
  
Uryuu sighed.  Ryuuken always had a knack for making him feel like shit about something, even if it wasn’t his fault.  
  
“It’s not like I knew who his father was,” he said.  
  
“Nor did I imply that you did,” Ryuuken countered, leveling a steel gaze upon his son.  “I'm not sure if I care for this attitude of yours—”  
  
“Can’t...”  
  
Ryuuken’s eyes narrowed.  “What did you say?”  
  
Uryuu swallowed hard, his heart racing.  This was it.  It was too late to turn back now. He had to finish it properly.  There could be no room for misinterpretation, no opportunity for denial.  
  
He raised his head and forced himself to meet his father’s eyes.  
  
“I can’t do this anymore, Ryuuken.”  
  
The dining room fell silent.  The tension in the air was overwhelming.  
  
“What can’t you do, Uryuu?” Ryuuken finally asked with an eerie and knowing calmness.  
  
Uryuu almost gave in to his urge to look away, but he knew that if he caved now, he would cave later, too.  In his bedroom.  
  
“ _This_ ,” he repeated firmly.  “You… and me… and… what we do.  It has to stop.”  
  
And there it was.  All out in the open.  
  
After a minute that felt like a lifetime, Ryuuken set down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair.  
  
“Because of the Kurosaki boy.”  
  
“Yes,” Uryuu quietly admitted.  “I like him.  I like him a lot.”  
  
“… I see.”  
  
Uryuu wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or pass out or have a heart attack or all three all at once.  Because while the older man’s expression so far had not deviated from its usual iciness, Uryuu was skilled enough at reading his father to know what he needed to know.  
  
Ryuuken was _furious._


	10. Dead Silence

Uryuu remained at the dinner table for a good half hour after his father left it, staring blindly at his unfinished meal and trying not to succumb to the raw panic that gnawed away at his insides.  He supposed that he should have been grateful that Ryuuken had simply walked away, exiting the room without uttering a single word even though his anger was almost palpable in its enormity.  
  
The teen shook his head as he considered his ignorance.  Honestly, what else had he expected to happen?  Did he think that the man would yell and rant and rave?  Ryuuken Ishida was many things.  But he was never _loud_.  The doctor maintained a refinedness in all of his actions, no matter how cold or cruel or dominating.  He had an uncanny ability to lance with words, and countless were the times in Uryuu’s life when a simple phrase or sentence spoken with icy smoothness had cut him far deeper than any edged weapon ever could.  Why had he anticipated a different reaction in this situation?  
  
And so… what now?  Now that he had stood his ground in the most monumental of ways, denying Ryuuken the one thing he had given him freely, and often.  They still had to live together, facing each other day in and day out until Uryuu graduated and escaped to college.  Was this just the beginning of the way things were going to be, this terrible, heart-rending silence?  Was this the price he would have to pay for his freedom?  His _happiness_?  If so, then so be it.  A decision had been made, one that had taken every single ounce of his courage and resolve, and he would stand by that decision come what may.  Ichigo was worth it.  
  
Dazedly, Uryuu stood up and cleared the table.  He turned on the small television in the kitchen as he cleaned up, anything to undo the quiet.  When he was finished, he slowly made his way down the hallway towards his room.  He paused outside the door, his eyes trained on the tiny sliver of light that emanated from the bottom of the door to Ryuuken’s office.  Uryuu could smell a faint whiff of cigarette smoke and he frowned as he tried to imagine the other man just beyond the door, sitting at his desk and ruminating over his son’s defiance.  After a while, he finally entered his bedroom and sat down at his own desk.  Homework was the last thing on his mind but he eventually forced himself to get started.  Uryuu figured that if this was the way that things were going to be, if this was going to be the extent of Ryuuken’s wrath, then he may as well start getting used to it.  
  
He had no idea that he would soon learn Ryuuken’s wrath ran far deeper than he could have possibly ever imagined.  
  
*****  
  
Three hours passed.  Uryuu closed his History book with no real recollection of what he just read and hopped into the shower.  He washed and dried and slipped his glasses back on for the short walk to his bed… where Ryuuken was sitting.  
  
Waiting.  
  
And for as much as Uryuu had believed that he did not want to suffer Ryuuken’s silence, he immediately discovered that he dreaded his father’s sudden appearance even more.  
  
Blue eyes met across the room, Uryuu’s wide and unavoidably nervous and Ryuuken’s as cold as ever.  Uryuu swallowed down his trepidation, as much as he could, and approached the bed, hoping that Ryuuken would get the hint and move out of his way.  
  
He didn’t.  
  
“It’s late.” Uryuu removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.  
  
“A stunning observation,” Ryuuken replied.  “I’m glad to see that your education is serving you well.”  
  
It stung, as did most of the things that came out of his mouth.  But if nothing else, it was also the sort of response that Uryuu was used to.  
  
“What do you want, Ryuuken?”  
  
A knowing gleam flashed in the doctor’s eyes.  “I recall asking you the same thing just last night.”  
  
Uryuu clenched his teeth.  He also remembered it, all too well, along with everything else: the heat of Ryuuken’s mouth, lips wrapped around him, silver-white strands of hair between his fingers, every moan, every thrust, all of it.  
  
“If you’re here to try and talk me out of seeing Ichigo—”  
  
Uryuu got no further than that.  He yelped in surprise as Ryuuken pulled him down to the bed and pinned his wrists over his head with a strength that the teen had no idea he even possessed.  The horrifying reality of what was happening— and what was very likely _about_ to happen— snapped him out of his shock and it was only at that moment when he realized just how  _very_ much he had underestimated Ryuuken’s fury.  
  
The older man bore down against Uryuu, hips shifting and grinding, and like clockwork, Uryuu’s body responded.  He squeezed his eyes shut, disgusted by his reaction and fighting desperately to curb his instinct to reciprocate, wanting not to want it.  No matter how good it felt.  
  
“Stop it, Ryuuken,” he whimpered pitifully.  
  
“Look at you, Uryuu,” Ryuuken murmured, thrusting steadily.  “You’re about to come all over yourself just from _this_ —”  
  
He rolled his hips for emphasis, causing Uryuu to arch and cry out.  
  
“— but yet I’m supposed to believe that you want me to stop?”  
  
Uryuu began to tremble.  Ryuuken was hard, so very hard against him, and since his legs were still free, it would have taken all of two seconds for him to wrap them around Ryuuken’s waist and surrender to the friction.  And a part of him wanted to, _begged_ him to do just that.  
  
But another part of him, safely tucked away where Ryuuken’s influence held no sway, knew that if he did, then it was over.  Whatever he had gained by standing up to Ryuuken would be undone.  And whatever chance he had at a relationship with Ichigo would be no more.  Gone.  For good.  
  
“… Yes,” he whispered.  “I want you to stop.” Uryuu forced his eyes open and met Ryuuken’s gaze.  _“Please.”_  
  
And, to his utter astonishment, Ryuuken did.  
  
Time came to a standstill as they stared at one another, both men hard and panting and unfulfilled.  Uryuu tried to read his father’s expression and failed.  There was still anger there, but it was muted now, diminished by something else he could not pinpoint.  But before he could study it further, Ryuuken stood up, righted his glasses, and left the room.  
  
And that was it.  
  
Uryuu brought his hands down over his eyes, blotting out the light.  He stayed that way for a very long time, not wanting to think about what just happened.  When he finally moved them, they were suspiciously wet.  
  
But he didn’t want to think about that, either.  
  
*****  
  
By the time Uryuu woke up the next morning, after _finally_ falling asleep sometime around sunrise, Ryuuken was gone.  
  
While there had been times in the past when his duties as a doctor required him to leave well before dawn, this felt different.  Intentional.  
  
It was probably for the best, all things considered.  
  
*****  
  
“Uryuu?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine, Ichigo.  Why do you ask?”  
  
Ichigo stared questioningly at his cooking partner.  “Because you’ve dumped nearly half a bottle of oregano into the pot.”  
  
Uryuu snapped back to the present and looked down at the mountain of spice that was slowly sinking into what was already a questionable medley of ingredients.  It didn’t have a particular name; Ms. Taylor had instructed the students to “wing it” and as such, Ichigo had thrown damn near everything he could find into a pot and hoped for the best.  
  
“Oh.”  Uryuu grabbed a spoon and began to scoop out what he could.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
Ichigo shrugged casually.  “Like I give a shit about that.”  He stepped closer to Uryuu, until their shoulders were dangerously close to touching.  “What’s going on?” he asked quietly.  “You’ve been out of it all day.”  
  
 _Let’s see, I’ve been fucking my father and when I told him that I couldn’t do it anymore because of you, he tried to force himself on me and I really kind of wanted it._  
  
Of course Uryuu would never say such a thing out loud.  Even though that summed it up perfectly.  
  
“I’m fine,” he said again as he dug out another spoonful of oregano.  “Just a little tired.”  
  
“… Okay.  If you say so.”  
  
Uryuu glanced at the young man.  He knew that Ichigo knew that he was full of shit, but was still opting to let it go for now.   And for that, he was thankful.  
  
“There.”  He set down the spoon.  “Do you want to give this mystery concoction a try?”  
  
“Hell no.”  Ichigo turned and called out to Keigo.  “Come taste this and tell us what you think.”  
  
Keigo rather foolishly did what Ichigo asked of him… and promptly spit it out.  All over Ichigo.  
  
Ichigo responded to Keigo by chasing him around the classroom.  
  
And Ms. Taylor responded to _both_ of them by threatening to beat them with a large wooden spoon.  
  
Uryuu suspected that Mr. Zaraki would have been mighty proud of her.  
  
*****  
  
Ryuuken was nowhere to be found when Uryuu arrived home.  
  
At six o’clock, he started cooking.  
  
At seven, he finished.  
  
At eight, he sat down to dinner.  Alone.  
  
And at nine, he began to wonder if Ryuuken was going to come home at all that night.  
  
Later, he settled on the living room couch.  He then turned on the television just in time for some god-awful movie, romantic drivel that Orihime would have loved.   Wretched as it was, it was still far preferable to the silence.  
  
Uryuu stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes, with every intention of only remaining that way for a moment.  He fell asleep shortly thereafter, unaware of the opening and closing of the front door sometime later, or the cold, contemplating gaze that fell upon him.  He woke up in the middle of the night, shrugged off the blanket that covered him, and stumbled to his bedroom.  After stripping down to his underwear, he fell into bed, entirely too exhausted to manage anything beyond that.  
  
And as he drifted off again, Uryuu realized that he hadn’t folded the blanket.  Oh well.  It would keep until morning.  
  
Funny thing, though.  He couldn’t remember getting it in the first place.


	11. Unexpected Discovery

By all rights, Uryuu should have been happy. Things were going well with Ichigo. _Better_ than well, to be honest. Uryuu almost felt like a character in one of Orihime’s cheesy teen romantic movies, the awkward nerd who had managed, against all odds, to win the affections of the most popular boy in school. All that was missing was the obligatory prom scene where even the awkward nerd’s staunchest haters gave their reluctant approval and all was right with the world by the time the credits rolled.  
  
While most of Uryuu and Ichigo’s interactions still took place at school, they had actually started spending more time together outside of the classroom as well. From movies (non-horror, to Uryuu’s relief) to occasional dinners to that one time when Ichigo let Uryuu drive his car--which almost ended very badly for the couple as well as an unsuspecting pedestrian--the two teens embarked on their new relationship with all the eagerness and excitement inherent with first love. They talked and laughed and kissed and avoided Mr. Zaraki’s wrath, and a good time was had by all. Except Mr. Zaraki.  
  
But as for things at home, the reason that Uryuu was _not_ as happy as he should have been… well, that was a different story altogether.  
  
Two weeks had passed since he told Ryuuken that he no longer wanted that which he should have never wanted to begin with. Since the night when things had come dangerously close to going too far between them, Ryuuken had adopted an eerie sort of silence towards his son. Even eye contact was a rarity these days. Uryuu could count on one hand the number of times that Ryuuken had spoken to him at all, and even that was contingent upon the doctor’s presence in the house, something that Uryuu was no longer able to depend on. Too often were the times that Uryuu would spend the evening by himself, tending to the house and sitting down to a meal made for one, then retiring to bed and lying wide awake, his ears straining for the sound of the front door and the subsequent smell of cigarette smoke before his body finally surrendered to the need for sleep.  
  
The young man tried to find the good in the situation; he had accomplished what he set out to do, what he was fearful of being _unable_ to do, and as a result, he was free to pursue a relationship with Ichigo with a clear conscience. For the most part. However, he was at a loss to understand Ryuuken’s reaction… or his own reaction to it. Although he had fully anticipated his father’s anger and possessiveness, as demonstrated by the day Ichigo had taken him home and Ryuuken, in turn, had taken him in a wholly different sense of the phrase, right over the kitchen counter, Uryuu had no idea at all what to make of Ryuuken’s quietness, and it troubled him more than he wanted to acknowledge. For as much as he had always strived not to care what Ryuuken thought or said, the fact that he actually _did_ care was proving to be quite the hindrance to an otherwise hopeful situation. Whether by accident or purely out of spite, Ryuuken had found the perfect way to punish Uryuu for his willfulness by tapping into his innate need for his father’s acceptance. The silence that should have been ideal was, in fact, quite bothersome.  
  
Not to mention painful.  
  
Perhaps this was just the way that things were going to be between them from now on. Sure, Uryuu knew better than to expect that they could ever have a normal father-son relationship, even without the added inappropriateness of sex.  
  
But this? This just… hurt.  
  
Uryuu sighed heavily and blinked at the plate in his hands, which he had been toweling dry for a good five minutes while lost in thought. He forced himself back to the present and finished cleaning the kitchen in a daze. When he was done, he disappeared into his bedroom and took a seat at his desk, where he ignored his homework in favor of staring blankly at a random spot on the wall, all the while trying to make heads or tails of the unsettling development that had stripped him of any satisfaction he thought he would have found in doing what was still, undoubtedly, the right thing.  
  
Upon hearing the opening and closing of the front door, Uryuu glanced at his clock and was stunned to see that an entire hour had passed since he first sat down. He forced himself to be still for a moment longer, torn between greeting the older man and leaving well enough alone. Uryuu was unsure of what he hoped to accomplish by facing Ryuuken… yet he was unable to compel himself otherwise.  
  
Against his better judgement, he stepped out into the hallway just as Ryuuken was opening the door to his office. Their eyes met across the corridor, and since it did not seem apparent that Ryuuken was going to start a conversation, Uryuu swallowed hard and decided to take a chance.  
  
“Have you eaten?” he asked.  
  
Ryuuken’s stare was cold and appraising. Nothing new there.  
  
“Tonight’s meal selections at the hospital were not completely inedible,” he eventually replied.  
  
And with that, Uryuu could think of nothing else to say, at least nothing else that would not implicate him in any way. He still had a small shred of pride left within him, for what it was worth. So when Ryuuken stepped inside his office and shut the door without so much as a goodnight, the teen could only return to his own room and the deafening sound of silence within, wondering once again why he even bothered caring whether or not Ryuuken spared him more than ten seconds of his precious time.  
  
It did not matter. It did not matter at all.  
  
Except that it did.  
  
So very much.  
  
*****  
  
“I am so full!” Ichigo announced on the heels of a rather impressive belch. Well, impressive to Ichigo, at any rate.  
  
Uryuu rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised. You just ate all of your lunch and half of mine.”  
  
The orange-haired teen grinned and brought his head to rest against Uryuu’s shoulder. Two weeks ago, Uryuu would have been entirely too nervous to enjoy the gesture, espcially so soon after having discovered that their newly adopted lunch spot was also a quickie getaway for Mr. Zaraki and Ms. Taylor. But now it did not bother him at all. Quite the contrary. Uryuu treasured these times with Ichigo, away from the other students, away from home, just the two of them, hidden away from the rest of the world. Together.  
  
He leaned back against the wall, ignoring the coolness of the brick against his back and focusing instead on the warmth emanating from his right. It was such a perfect moment, one that he wished he could bottle or etch in stone or immortalize some other way. One that he wished would never have to end.  
  
“Hey, Uryuu.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“... Is everything okay with you?”  
  
Uryuu sighed and pushed up his glasses. He knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before Ichigo asked. While the teen had been very careful not to let his distress over the situation with Ryuuken show when he and Ichigo were together, Uryuu also knew that Ichigo was keen enough to sense that all was not right.  
  
“I’m just… dealing with some issues at home.” Since outright lying was not an option, that was about the nicest way he could think to put it.  
  
Ichigo lazily swatted at a fly that had decided to pay them a visit. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.  
  
Although there were things that Uryuu would take to his grave, secrets that he would never, ever reveal, he actually _did_ want to talk about it. As much as he could. Anything to lessen the weight of his confusion and worry and guilt.  
  
“... I think Ryuuken hates me.”  
  
Ichigo raised his head, his eyes wide and questioning. “Are you kidding? You’re every parent’s wet dream.”  
  
“That’s disgusting, Ichigo.”  
  
“It really is. Sorry about that.” Ichigo placed an apologetic kiss on Uryuu’s shoulder. “Why do you think he hates you?” he wanted to know.  
  
“I told him that…” Uryuu sighed again. “I told him that...”  
  
_(I couldn’t have sex with him anymore because)_  
  
“...I like you. And he hasn’t really had much to say to me since.”  
  
Ichigo fell silent. Had Uryuu not been so mired in his angst, he would have cheekily pointed out the rarity of the occasion.  
  
“It’s not you,” he added quickly, hoping to dispel any notion that Ichigo was the one to blame for causing a rift between him and his father. “It’s just that Ryuuken is…”  
  
“Jealous?” Ichigo offered.  
  
Uryuu was taken aback by the suggestion, which hit closer to home than Ichigo would ever know. “W-What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean it’s always been just the two of you, right?”  
  
“... Yeah.”  
  
“And then along comes this stunningly handsome boy who sweeps you off your feet--”  
  
“Oh, for goodness sake.” In spite of himself, Uryuu chuckled at Ichigo’s shameless display of ego.  
  
“--so it kind of makes sense that he wouldn’t be thrilled with having to share you with someone as wonderful as I am.”  
  
While Ichigo smirked and preened, Uryuu shook his head. He did not know which was more unbelievable: his friend’s blatant and comical arrogance or the fact that he actually had something of a point.  
  
“Anyway,” Ichigo said, his tone becoming serious again. “He probably hates the fact that you’re growing up but I’m sure he doesn’t hate _you_.”  
  
“You don’t know him like I do,” Uryuu pointed out, not wanting to believe or hope or _care_ that Icihgo might have been telling the truth. It was much easier to simply think of Ryuuken as an asshole with no emotional proclivity whatsoever. The idea that he might actually feel something… _anything_.... Uryuu was not sure that he could even begin to wrap his head around the idea.  
  
“No, I don’t,” Ichigo agreed. “But I _do_ know that some people just have a really fucked up way of showing that they care. Do you want to know what my dad and I do every single morning?”  
  
Uryuu blinked at Ichigo, curious. “What?”  
  
“We beat the shit out of each other.”  
  
He burst out laughing at Uryuu’s horrified expression.  
  
“We _spar_ ,” he clarified. “I don’t even remember how or why we started doing it, but now it’s just normal, every day behavior. Normal for us, anyway.”  
  
“You Kurosakis are weird people,” Uryuu said with a shake of the head.  
  
Ichigo nodded. “At least you and your dad can agree on that.”  
  
The two teens looked at each other. Ichigo leaned forward and touched his forehead to Uryuu’s.  
  
“Smile,” he gently commanded.  
  
Uryuu did.  
  
When it came to Ichigo, he simply could not help himself.  
  
*****  
  
The hallway was swamped with students on their way to their sixth period classes. Uryuu navigated the crowd as he usually did, his shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, all in his usual effort to avoid human contact. It was such a stark contrast to his ever increasing openness with Ichigo but what could he say? Old habits died hard.  
  
Because of this, he did not see Kouji Shinomiya, who just so happened to be the captain of his archery club, until he walked directly into him.  
  
“Oh.” Uryuu blushed when he realized his blunder. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay,” the tall senior responded.  
  
Uryuu moved past Kouji and his friend, some artist guy who always looked woefully depressed, and was about to resume his trek down the hallway when Kouji called out to him.  
  
“Next week’s meet is being rescheduled for the week after,” he explained. “I’m sure it’ll be announced at our next practice but I figured I’d tell you now.”  
  
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”  
  
“And make sure you tell your dad.”  
  
Uryuu gaped at the older teen. “What?”  
  
“Tell your dad,” Kouji repeated, having assumed that he was not heard because of the noise that surrounded them.  
  
But Uryuu _had_ heard him. Loud and clear. He just did not understand why he was hearing what he was hearing.  
  
“... Why would I do that?”  
  
“Because he never misses a meet.” Kouji stared at Uryuu, confused by his confusion. “I just assumed that you knew that,” he added with a shrug.  
  
The warning bell sounded loudly, signaling to the student body that they had sixty seconds left to reach their destination. Kouji waved at Uryuu before taking off with his emo mate, leaving the young man frozen in place to ponder this most unexpected bit of information.  
  
Ryuuken attended his archery meets? That was impossible. Aside from the fact that he had never once spotted his father at any of the competitions, the sheer amount of bitching and moaning that Ryuuken did regarding Uryuu’s “silly little hobby” was reason enough to doubt Kouji’s assertion.  
  
Except… everyone knew who Ryuuken Ishida was, if not as the doctor he was now, then as the competitive archer he was back in the day. Numerous were the times when the Ishida name was mentioned during Uryuu’s practices, spoken with great admiration and awe, and making it that much more difficult for Uryuu to emerge from the shadows of his grandfather and Ryuuken. Therefore, if Kouji said that he saw Ryuuken, chances were very slim that it was a case of mistaken identity.  
  
Which meant that Ryuuken was watching him compete, and had been doing so for quite some time.  
  
Which meant that…?  
  
_Some people just have a really fucked up way of showing that they care._  
  
If that was true, then the Kurosakis had nothing on the Ishidas.  
  
Uryuu slowly wandered towards his next class, his eyes downcast for a whole new bevy of reasons.  
  
He had questions. So many questions.  
  
And tonight he had every intention of finally getting some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter featured cameos by two Gakuen Heaven characters. Because why not? :-)


	12. Conflict Resolution

As was often the case since the night that Uryuu stood his ground, Ryuuken did not come home for dinner. It was just as well as Uryuu was still trying to work out exactly how to confront his father about the things that were brought to his attention, the things that caused him to question the man’s true feelings and intentions. For as long as Uryuu could remember--his entire life, to be exact--he never once had the distinct impression that Ryuuken gave much of a damn about him, one way or the other. Sure, he tolerated Uryuu, as was his parental obligation to do so. But Ryuuken’s stony demeanor, at least in Uryuu’s eyes, had always been more indicative of one forced to suffer the responsibility of an unwanted burden as opposed to bearing any genuine affection. Back in the days when Uryuu actually cared to think about the doctor’s behavior towards him, he assumed that Ryuuken’s coldness was, at least in part, a direct result of the disdain he must have felt towards Uryuu’s mother, a woman Uryuu never knew. But now? Well, Uryuu just wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Ichigo had theorized that some people had a messed up way of showing others that they cared. Was that the reason Uryuu and Ryuuken fucked far better than they talked? Was it a case of actions, however terribly inappropriate, speaking louder than words?  
  
The more Uryuu thought about it, the more he began to realize that the answer to the second question, at least on his part, was yes. Sure, sex with Ryuuken was good in the simple, physical sense. However, as much as he hated to admit it, the other reason he wanted Ryuuken so badly was that it was the only time when the man set aside his dislike for his son in favor of fucking him. Sex had given them both the excuse they needed to drop their respective guards, to strip away all the layers of resentment and dysfunction until there was nothing left but raw, unrestrained need. Carnal need, true enough. But also… just maybe… a little bit of emotional need, as well.  
  
And if that really _was_ the case…  
  
The sound of the front door cut through Uryuu’s thoughts, silencing the conclusion he was hesitant to draw. He closed the book that had been sitting on top of his desk, unread, and turned his attention to his bedroom door, beyond which Ryuuken was quietly moving about the house. When Uryuu heard him enter his office, he decided that the time had come to act. He didn’t necessarily have a gameplan to speak of, but he also knew that if he didn’t move now, he would spend the rest of his life procrastinating and waiting for the perfect opportunity to face Ryuuken, one that would likely never come.  
  
He eased out into the hallway and approached the door to his father’s office. Uryuu could not recall the last time he had stepped foot inside the room and he was uncertain that confronting Ryuuken “on his turf” was really the best idea. But he had come too far to stop now. If he didn’t do this, he would never truly be at peace and his happiness, both with Ichigo and in general, would always be compromised.  
  
Uryuu knocked lightly and waited, his brow creased in a frown, his teeth clenched, and his heart pounding. His fist hovered over the door, but just when he was about to knock again, Ryuuken called out from the other side:  
  
“Come in.”  
  
The teen had to admit that he was stunned. Years of conditioning had taught him to expect the worst when interrupting a man as busy and important as Ryuuken Ishida. Uryuu thought that his father would perhaps crack the door open and glare at him for intruding before accusing him of rudeness and demanding to know what was so urgent. The last thing he expected was such a casual response.  
  
He took a deep breath and walked inside.  
  
The office, as far as Uryuu could remember, was more or less a mirror image of Ryuuken’s office at the hospital. Neat, organized, and highly impersonal. Uryuu closed the door and remained beside it, his eyes trained on the man sitting at the large desk in the center of the room.  
  
Ryuuken did not look up from his paperwork. “What is it, Uryuu?” he asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette and resting it in a nearby ashtray.  
  
“... I was asked to tell you that the archery meet was postponed.”  
  
Uryuu paused, watching Ryuuken for any signs of surprise. When none appeared, he knew that he should have known better; a bomb could have gone off right beside him and he would still have that same cool, calm look on his face.  
  
“I see.” Ryuuken offered no further acknowledgement. He just kept right on reading over his notes. “Was there anything else?”  
  
“... You see?” Uryuu shook his head. That old, familiar annoyance he had always felt with Ryuuken’s frustratingly standoffish ways was fueling his courage. “You… you spend _years_ putting down archery, and putting _me_ down for doing it, and that’s all you have to say?”  
  
“I was unaware that my response required further explanation.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were watching me compete?” Uryuu demanded to know.  
  
Ryuuken finally raised his head.  
  
“Tell me, Uryuu. What purpose would it have served?” He took another drag off his cigarette and then leaned back in his seat, favoring his son with a cool gaze. “Would you have performed better knowing that I was there?”  
  
Deep down, Uryuu knew that the exact opposite was true. Being the son of a renowned archer was bad enough. Having to perform under said renowned archer’s watchful eye would have very likely ruined his concentration. But that was beside the point.  
  
“You could have told me,” he said, ignoring Ryuuken’s question. “Instead of making me feel like I was wasting my time.”  
  
“Make no mistake, Uryuu, I still firmly believe that archery is a waste of time,” Ryuuken explained. “However, since you insist on doing it, I wanted to ensure that my money was being well-spent. Now if you are done being dramatic, I have work to do--”  
  
“Why do you hate me, Ryuuken?”  
  
Uryuu did not mean to blurt out that particular question in such an inelegant way. But it was too late to take it back now.  
  
The room fell quiet as father and son stared at each other for quite some time. Finally, after what felt like ages, Ryuuken calmly stubbed out the cigarette that had burned down to the butt during their silent standoff.  
  
“Go to bed, Uryuu,” he said. “Your lack of proper sleep is making you rather insufferable.”  
  
The young man had no idea how Ryuuken could have possibly known that he wasn’t sleeping well, but that was neither here nor there.  
  
“I know we’ve never been… like other families…” he began, ignoring the older man’s command. “And we never will be. I understand that. But you’ve been completely avoiding me ever since… that night. Is this how things are going to be from now on?”  
  
Uryuu hated the fact that he was leaving himself open in such a big way, completely vulnerable to whatever scathing reply Ryuuken had planned. But if he was to move forward, he needed to know where he stood right now. He didn’t _want_ to care about how Ryuuken treated him, but unfortunately, he did. So the only thing he could control was how he chose to react to it.  
  
More silence. Dreadful and seemingly infinite. When Ryuuken spoke again, Uryuu was taken aback by the tone of the man’s voice. While it was hardly gentle, and never would be, it bore none of the spite that he had come to expect.  
  
“Wasn’t this what you wanted? For me to leave you alone?”  
  
A loaded question if ever there was one. Did Uryuu want Ryuuken to stop fucking him? Yes.  
  
But did he want Ryuuken to ignore him completely?  
  
“... No.”  
  
“Then what _do_ you want, Uryuu?”  
  
What did Uryuu want? He wanted… he _needed_... to fill the emotional hole that grew wider and deeper with every passing day that Ryuuken rejected him. For better or worse, the man was his father. His family. Uryuu didn’t have to like it--and most times, he sure as hell didn’t--but that was not to say that he was above needing him. In whatever fucked up capacity he could have him.  
  
Which was why Uryuu began taking off his clothes.  
  
“Uryuu…what are you doing?”  
  
Instead of answering, Uryuu stripped down to nothing, leaving his clothes in a bundle by his feet. When Ryuuken did not comment on the mess, Uryuu knew that he had his full attention.  
  
The doctor rose to his feet as Uryuu approached him, his face stern but questioning. Uryuu stopped directly in front of him, his expression fearful yet defiant.  
  
“I want…” He let out a heavy sigh and tried again. “I want you to touch me, Ryuuken. One last time.”  
  
It wasn’t about sex. There would be no sex this time, at least not of the penetrative variety. It was more about tending to that emotional craving the only sick and twisted way he knew how. Such had been the case ever since that long ago first night when Uryuu jerked off in front of Ryuuken. The more Uryuu contemplated it, the more it occurred to him that it was also the first time that Ryuuken had looked at him with something other than disgust or impatience or contempt. And while lust wasn’t a reaction that most normal human beings desired from their kin, it was such a welcome reprieve from Ryuuken’s usual torment that it was no wonder Uryuu embraced it wholeheartedly. The subsequent guilt had seemed a small price to pay for the older man’s temporary acceptance.  
  
As time marched on, the physical part did figure more into the equation. Fucking Ryuuken felt good; Uryuu was far past the point of denying that. But even so, the sex had always taken a backseat to the bigger picture, the grander purpose: being fucked by his father was the only time that Uryuu ever felt loved.  Or something kind of like it.  
  
The two men stared at one another, the tension between them almost unbearable. Uryuu was already getting hard and there was no way to hide it. If Ryuuken did reject him now, he knew that he would never live it down, that Ryuuken would have the upper hand between them forever.  
  
But instead of turning him away, Ryuuken turned him towards the desk, pushing him back against it. He reached behind Uryuu and swept his papers and ashtray aside, then nudged at Uryuu, prompting him to sit on top of the desk. Ryuuken wasted no time peeling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. While he was busy doing that, Uryuu reached out with shaky fingers and loosened the other man’s belt. Ryuuken was hard already, that much was obvious by the bulge in his pants, and it sent a jolt of need through Uryuu that left him trembling.  
  
After pushing his pants and underwear down, Ryuuken settled into the space between Uryuu’s legs. He planted his hands on the desk behind Uryuu and leaned forward, sliding their cocks together. Uryuu whimpered and wrapped his arms and legs around his father, pulling him close and grinding against him, clinging… clutching… thrusting. The pleasure was immense, especially after having gone so long without.  
  
“Oh, God,” he moaned as he breathed in the scent of cologne and smoke and lust.  
  
Uryuu fell back, stretching out across the desktop. He tugged greedily at Ryuuken’s arms until he got the hint and blanketed his body over Uryuu’s. The teen tightened his hold around him, fingers sifting through silver-white locks and not caring in the least if it was forbidden. If Ryuuken minded the gesture, he did not say so, but just kept on bucking and thrusting, their cocks shifting alongside each other, coated in their own slickness.  
  
But even better than that, the thing that Uryuu would remember most when he looked back on the moment, was the way that Ryuuken _felt_. Not just his dick, but every single inch of him, draped across his body, consenting to his son’s embrace. _This_ was what he wanted from his father, more than anything. The one thing that their relationship would never openly abide for reasons that long exceeded any need or want of understanding. It was just the way it was between them, and the way it would always be.  
  
Which was why this time, this _last_ time, meant so much.  
  
And was over far too soon.  
  
Uryuu arched up and cried out and came _hard_ , making a mess of himself and Ryuuken and the desk. He kept holding on until Ryuuken grunted softly and followed suit, and after the older man went lax against him, Uryuu still refused to let him go.  
  
He had no idea how long they remained like that. All he knew was that when Ryuuken finally pushed himself up, it was still too soon.  
  
Ryuuken looked down at his son, sprawled across his desk and covered in cum. His expression was still somewhat cold; he would only ever be capable of varying degrees of the same. But beneath the layers of ice, Uryuu spotted no disgust or impatience or contempt.  
  
And more astonishing than that was the hand that stilled him when he attempted to get up. He watched with wide eyes as Ryuuken grabbed a wad of tissues from one of the desk drawers and cleaned them both.  
  
“I’d much rather not have either of us dripping on the carpet,” the doctor explained, sensing Uryuu’s surprise.  
  
When he was finished, he tossed the soiled tissues into a small garbage can and pulled up his pants. He then took a step back, giving Uryuu the room he needed to sit up and get off the desk.  
  
“Oh.” The young man reddened when he noticed that the desk was still a little bit… sticky. “I’ll take care of that.”  
  
“No,” Ryuuken countered. “You will take a shower and go to bed. I expect your disposition will be much more tolerable once you’ve gotten a full night’s rest.”  
  
“... Okay.”  
  
Slowly, Uryuu made his way towards the door. He bent down and picked up his clothing, dazed by the man’s words and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Ryuuken was extending him a courtesy. In his own reserved way, of course.  
  
“You should become more proficient with the thumb release technique.”  
  
Uryuu was still so distracted by Ryuuken’s generosity that he almost didn’t hear the impromptu shooting advice. He stood upright, clothes in hand, and looked at his father, who was now buttoning his shirt.  
  
“I want to,” he replied. “But I don’t know anyone good enough to teach me properly.”  
  
Well… that wasn’t _exactly_ true.  
  
Ryuuken sighed as he righted his glasses. “I suppose I could find the time for a lesson or two. If you’re going to continue having me pay for this little hobby of yours, you should at least be able to master the holds.” He sat down and lit a cigarette. “And don’t even get me started on your stance, which is nothing short of atrocious.”  
  
In spite of the censure, Uryuu smiled. He actually smiled. It was the first time that he had done so in front of Ryuuken since… ever?  
  
He could have pointed out that he was at the top of his group. He could have reminded him of the scores of trophies and ribbons that were proof of his ability.  
  
But instead, he simply said, “Goodnight, Ryuuken.”  
  
Uryuu stepped out of the room and stood in the hallway, his lips still curved in an unexpected smile. It was weird and kind of scary, this feeling of hope and optimism and possibility. But it was pretty damn nice, too.  
  
He headed towards his bedroom, each step reaffirming the true and final closing of a chapter in his life that never should have started in the first place. Uryuu and Ryuuken would never be friends or pals. They would never spar like Ichigo did with his dad. They would never have deep and meaningful conversations about life and love. And Uryuu still had zero intention of ever calling him anything other than Ryuuken.  
  
But they were back to being father and son. Their version of it, at any rate.  
  
No more. No less.  
  
He slept soundly that night, for the first time in weeks.  
  
*****  
  
 _One month later:_  
  
Uryuu cringed as the sound of a blaring horn filtered into the living room. He hopped off the couch and grabbed his messenger bag, moving swiftly lest his ride piss off the entire neighborhood.  
  
“Honestly.” Ryuuken glared at Uryuu over his newspaper. “Does that boy lack even basic common decency?” He contemplated his own question before adding, “Never mind. Considering his father, I suppose this is the best I can hope for.”  
  
Uryuu opened the front door and waved at Ichigo to stop him from honking. “You know he only does that because you don’t like him,” he pointed out as he stood in the doorway.  
  
“Well, it is true that I find him extremely reprehensible,” Ryuuken agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he is exempt from etiquette. If he wants to pick you up, he can come to the door. Manners, Uryuu.”  
  
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell him.” Uryuu slung his bag over his shoulder. “I won’t be too late.”  
  
Ryuuken stared at his son. “Very well,” he eventually said.  
  
Uryuu stepped out of the house and into the bright Saturday afternoon light. He trotted down the driveway and got into the car that waited for him, then turned to smile at the teen behind the wheel.  
  
Ichigo Kurosaki. His _boyfriend._  
  
They had made it official a few weeks ago on the night of Uryuu’s rescheduled meet--which he won, of course--and sealed the deal with a kiss. Among other things. While they weren’t necessarily out, they weren’t exactly in, either. Chad and Keigo knew. Orihime did as well, and was rightfully jealous. Ms. Taylor and Mr. Zaraki, who had their own relationship to keep under wraps, were also privy. (And Mr. Zaraki was kind enough to point out that his desire to murder Ichigo had nothing to do with his sexual orientation.) Ichigo’s dad knew, too, and couldn't have been happier about it; meeting the overzealous man for the first time had been an experience that Uryuu would not soon forget.  
  
And, of course, Ryuuken. The man never hesitated to express his dislike of Ichigo, something which was and would likely remain a topic of debate between him and Uryuu. He had even gone so far as to question why Uryuu couldn’t have found himself a nice archer type like Kouji. Uryuu thought it amazing. Two months ago, Ryuuken had reacted… badly… to the idea of Uryuu being interested in someone. Now he was offering suggestions!  
  
Things were far from perfect. Ryuuken had proven more than once that he was still quite capable of being an asshole. But the rift between them, previously bridged in the most inappropriate of ways, was a little less severe than it used to be.  
  
Considering everything they had gone through, it was a good start.  
  
“Hey there.” The orange-haired teen snatched Uryuu by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss. “What do you feel like doing today?”  
  
“I’m up for anything,” Uryuu replied.  
  
Ichigo tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he thought about his options. “Oh! There’s that new horror movie playing at the theater,” he said. “It’s supposed to be super bloody and gory and shit.”  
  
Uryuu groaned. “Correction. Anything but _that_.”  
  
The couple grinned as Ichigo pulled out of the driveway and took off down the road towards a destination as yet undetermined (but definitely lacking blood and gore). A very happy Uryuu eagerly grabbed onto Ichigo’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He did not notice the lone figure standing in front of the window inside his house.  
  
Nor did Uryuu see the slight upward twitch of Ryuuken's lips as he watched them leave.


End file.
